A Snake Must Shed Its Skin, Or Die
by silverbirch
Summary: Two women of different ages, but both at a defining moment of their lives, must decide how to deal with a world very different to the one they imagined. Their future can either be the one they determine, or the one that is determined for them, but it cannot be the one they truly wanted. JK Rowling created the original characters.
1. Chapter 1

The day had started so ordinarily, like any other. They had crept around the school, trying to avoid the Carrows and get through until bed-time. The pureblood revolution she had heard talked about for so long had quickly turned into a nightmare unless you were one of the chosen few, and Pansy Parkinson was no longer in that elite group.

To begin with it had all been so wonderful. Slytherin was the only House to be in and – yes – she had enjoyed the power her house and prefect badges had given her. She had free rein to bully and torment whomsoever she chose.

Then the punishments had started and she'd been expected to prove herself a loyal supporter of the Dark Lord which she did so willingly, at the start. The older pupils, Gryffindor boys especially, had been easy enough to curse and it had been a long time since she'd seen Longbottom snivel, just like he'd done in their first year. That it was her making it happen added a certain guilty pleasure to the situation.

She wished Draco had been there to see it but he, as he had predicted, did not return. He was out there, somewhere, at the Dark Lord's side as one of his trusted inner circle, Pansy had no doubt. He never wrote to her, which was upsetting, but she assumed it was because he was too busy. They had the old society to sweep away and a new one to establish. She would have to put childish notions like romance aside until the final victory had been achieved.

As the year progressed things began to change. Potter still hadn't been captured and rumours of terrorist attacks began to spread. Milicent Bulstrode's father had been ambushed on his way to a meeting in Godric's Hollow and was still in a coma in St Mungo's. Three muggle youths had been captured in the vicinity, and summarily executed, but everyone knew, deep down, that this had been the work of wizards. One of her own father's workshops had been razed, and the words "Death Lover" were daubed on the walls.

Within the school, constant demands were being made on pupils to prove their loyalty to the regime and any deviation from the party line could have dire consequences. Mistrust and doubts about the loyalties of one's House mates, room mates, even began to surface in Slytherin. A fourth year in her House had been caught listening to Potterwatch and was accused of consorting with the enemy. He had been dragged from the school by masked Death Eaters and his fate was unconfirmed, rather than unknown.

Her own downfall had begun one day in late February. She had been called from her class and told to present herself to second year Muggle Studies, taught by Alecto Carrow. She entered to find a girl huddled, shivering and crying, in the corner. She was a small, dark haired child, who reminded Pansy of herself when she was that age.

'Welcome, Miss Parkinson,' gloated Carrow. 'This miserable little wretch has informed us all that muggles are intelligent creatures. Can you believe that?'

'No, Professor.'

'Of course you can't. Nobody can. If this girl cannot learn she will have to be taught, won't she?'

'Yes, Professor.'

'Then teach her, Miss Parkinson. Teach her as only a pureblood can when faced with such stubbornness.'

As Pansy raised her wand the girl begged and soiled herself. Pansy didn't even make it out of the door before she vomited.

Pansy had not been punished for her failing, she was simply cast aside. Those who were still in favour ostracised her for her weakness, whilst those she had dominated and bullied outside Slytherin now took their revenge. It was never direct action, as a Slytherin she could not be beaten up, but she could be tripped or shouldered aside in the corridors "by accident", have ink poured in to her bag when she wasn't looking, or talked about as if she were not there. "Whatever became of Malfoy's slut?" they would say, loudly, pretending not to see her as she walked past. As long as you weren't seen by the teachers or enforcers there was nothing she could do about it.

Then it changed. Potter...**Potter**...was in the school and the Dark Lord was demanding him, or else. Pansy knew enough about his methods now to realise that he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. If he attacked the school anything could happen. He would destroy anything, and anyone, that stood in his way to get at Potter and fulfil the prophecy. They were all going to die...unless...She had to do something. She had to stop the nightmare that would otherwise come and destroy them all. She was scared, that's all; scared and alone.

However, the memory of what she said that night would remain in the minds of those who heard her, those fateful words which would forever be associated with the name Pansy Parkinson. Nobody ever asked her why she said what she did, and wouldn't have believed her anyway. She was branded as the girl who wanted The Boy Who Lived handed over to Voldemort. She was seen and heard betraying The Chosen One. It was years later, and in a country far away, that she found out the significance of the name "Judas".

'But he's there! Potter's there! Someone grab him!'

All the other Houses stood and drew their wands, but they were facing the wrong way; not towards Potter but towards the Slytherins – towards her.

It was McGonagall, of all people, had saved her from being lynched on the spot.

'Thank you, Miss Parkinson. You will leave the Hall first with Mr Filch. If the rest of your House could follow.'

Pansy found herself leading her House out of the school to Hogsmeade, via a tunnel, and they followed her even though there had been differences in recent months. She had not been chosen as a prefect without reason and her sense of responsibility and duty to her younger charges took over. House loyalty was ingrained in her, like everyone else, despite everything. She saw the younger Slytherins safely home through the floo network, or hidden, before considering herself.

'That's it,' said Pansy, as the last of her charges disappeared through the fireplace. She looked at the small group of senior Slytherins who remained. 'It's our turn. We can get out of here, go home.'

'Are you mad?' asked Daphne Greengrass. 'You're going to miss this? This our big chance. This is where we make our names.'

'What do you mean?' Pansy asked. 'Don't you understand? There's going to be a war, and we're going to die if we stay here.'

_'"And gentlemen in England now abed shall think themselves accursed they were not here,_ _and hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks that fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day."_ ' It was Theodore Nott, the most bookish Slytherin, who had spoken. 'It's you who doesn't understand, Parkinson. Anyone who's here with the Dark Lord today is going to be right at the heart of it. He'll never forget that we came to join him. There are only two sides now, so you'd better choose which one you're on.'

'Theo's right,' said Tracey Davis. 'You have to decide where your loyalties lie.' She took Pansy's hands. 'Come back to us, Pansy. Do what you know is right, and he will forgive your lapses.'

Pansy allowed herself to be led by the others towards Voldemort's headquarters. As they neared it a figure appeared from the gloom.

'Professor Snape!' they shouted, in relief. 'We've come to join you.'

'You bloody fools! Get out of here now, whilst you still have the chance. Go!'

'Severus? What do we have here?' They froze . The voice needed no introduction, even though they'd never met him. Voldemort stepped in to the light and none of them could bring themselves to look at his face. 'Slytherin volunteers to my army! I welcome you, my children; your loyalty shall not be forgotten when we have our victory.'

'My Lord,' Snape interjected, 'I have taught these children for many years. I can assure you they will be no assets to you. They will be a danger to themselves and anyone fighting alongside them. They are worth twenty men to those inside the school.'

'Come, come, Severus! I am sure they will fight well and bravely, yet...Blood will be spilled tonight and we, as a society, will need to make good our losses. These loyal young people have many years ahead of them producing fine, healthy children for my cause.'

Voldemort turned to them. 'Your professor is right, as professors tend to be!' They tried to return what they assumed was his attempt at a smile, but couldn't do it. 'You shall stay out of the battle, that is my order, but you shall help my fighters by bringing them refreshments and tending to their wounds.' Then he was gone.

Snape turned to them with a face more terrible than they had ever seen. 'Remember that I saved not only your miserable hides tonight, but your very souls. Would that somebody could do the same for me.' Then he, too, was gone.

War, as a camp follower, was not glamorous. They spent the night fetching drinks or stirring soup, and their only contribution to tending the sick was either cutting cloth into bandages or watching people die of their wounds. There was no rest and no thanks. Millicent Bulstrode began to complain they were being treated worse than House Elves and Pansy's retort that it was better than being a brood mare, which was obviously their perceived role for the future, didn't go down well.

By the early hours of the morning they were all deathly tired, and had no clue as to what was going on. All they could gauge about the battle was periods of noise and periods of quiet but they had no idea which side was winning or losing, if either.. Eventually they saw a small group of their side heading towards the school, as if in procession, and it was quiet again.

Then all hell broke loose as a much larger group swarmed through the camp, smashing everything in their path. Pansy was hurled to the ground by a curse and trampled in the melee. By the time she came round everything was still but the camp was in ruins, with bodies everywhere. She appeared to be the only one moving and took her chance to finally run.

Pansy found a large bush that offered shelter and she crouched under it, pulling her cloak more tightly around herself to keep out the pre-dawn chill. She was shivering enough from fear as it was and she wanted to stay as still as possible to avoid detection, by either side. In the dark and confusion either side could consider you an enemy and there was no time now for quarter to be asked for or given.

As dawn broke she heard a tumultuous roaring from inside the school. She knew, as soon as she heard it, that it was a victory roar but it _came from the wrong side_. There were too many young voices in it. This was the victory roar of the defenders, not the attackers, which could only mean that Voldemort was defeated. Pansy Parkinson had picked the wrong side and to the victor would go the spoils.

She stayed under that bush for...she didn't know how long. Perhaps she even slept a little, she didn't know. Eventually hunger forced her to move. She needed to get to safety. She wanted to go home. The rustling of leaves as she tried to escape her shelter immediately drew attention to her.

'There's one under here!' She heard footsteps running towards her cover and froze. 'Come out! We've got you surrounded!' Pansy lay still until a blasting curse struck close by, close enough she could feel the force from it. 'Come out or you get the next one! Makes no difference to us; you'll be just another corpse.'

Pansy pushed her way free, ignoring the branches that scratched at her face, and stood to face her captors. They were two men, thick set but with recent wounds. She didn't know who they were but assumed they were not on her side, whatever that was any more. They looked at her robes.

'Slytherin, eh? Is that was the master race do, hide under bushes? Name?'

'Lavender Brown.' It was the first thing she could think of. The heavy blow of a hand to her face knocked her to the ground and she looked up to see two wands pointing at her.

'Bitch! Lavender Brown's in the mortuary. She died a hero. Name!'

'Pansy Parkinson.'

She was dragged roughly to her feet.

'Arm!'

She didn't know what these men wanted with her, or who they were, so just stood, dumbly. She soon found out when she was grabbed in a headlock and her sleeves forced up. They were looking for her Dark Mark, the sign that she was a Death Eater.

'Her arms are clear, she's just one of their hangers on. Where's your wand?'

'I don't know. I ran away when we were attacked...'

'Attacked where? Answer!'

'Our camp, I don't know...I was looking after the wounded. Please, can I go home?'

She was searched for a wand, more thoroughly than was necessary, but nothing was found. 'You're going nowhere. Move!'

One of the men grabbed her arm and she was dragged towards the school. She couldn't believe the damage it had suffered. Walls were blown through and the main doors hung from their hinges. Inside she could see even more damage and a vast throng in the Main Hall, moving with the tired but upright stance of victors.

A man she recognised as Kingsley Shacklebolt approached, and the men holding her adopted a deferential stance. 'Caught one in the grounds, Sir, trying to sneak out.'

Shacklebolt looked at her, his eyes filled with loathing. 'Parkinson.'

'That's what she says her name is, Sir, but I didn't recognise it. Is she important?'

'Please, I didn't...'

Shacklebolt turned away. 'She's the Judas. Put her in with the rest and we'll get round to processing her, eventually.'

She was frogmarched down a set of stairs. She knew where she was and hoped these men were taking her to the Slytherin common room, but they didn't. Eventually they got to a door, guarded by two further men.

'Open up, we've got another one for you. Not a Death Eater.'

'Checked her for a wand?'

'Thoroughly!'

'I bet you did!' said one of the guards, eyeing her, and the men laughed.

'Perk of the job,' said her captor, with a grin.

The door was opened and she was thrust roughly inside, tripping and falling to the floor. She looked up to see she was in one of the underground storage rooms they had jokingly called "dungeons" for years. There was no window, the only light coming from several lamps on the wall. This was a room that hadn't see daylight, perhaps, since the school had been built a thousand years ago. It was cold and dank and the walls glistened with moisture.

'Pansy! Oh, Pansy, you're safe!' Tracey Davis was beside her, helping her up and hugging her. 'I thought you were dead, along with...' She broke down in tears.

'Dead?' asked Pansy, in horror. 'Who's dead?'

'Daphne, and Theo, when we were attacked. I saw their bodies. I don't know where Mili is; I tried to find her, but...'

'What's happened?' Pansy asked her.

'I don't know, I don't know anything any more.'

'We lost, Pansy, that's what happened.' The voice came from the other side of the room, from the shadows where the lamps couldn't reach. 'We lost the war and now we're going to lose everything else; our homes, our money...our sons.'

Pansy moved towards the shadows, recognising the voice even through the thick layer of resignation.

'Narcissa?'

* * *

_AN: The story idea was suggested by SnarkyAndProudHufflepuff 's "Challenging Pairing Challenge" topic/44309/97766068/1/The-Challenging-Pairing-Challenge_

_The title is based on a quote by Friedrich Nietzsche "The snake which cannot cast its skin has to die. As well the minds which are prevented from changing their opinions; they cease to be mind."_

_As always, I thank Euclidian for his amazing editorial work and ability to ask the right questions._


	2. Chapter 2

Narcissa Malfoy had observed the duel between Voldemort and Potter – the irony that the future of pureblood supremacy would be decided by two half-bloods was not lost on her – in a rising state of panic.

In that pale pre-dawn her mind had suddenly gone back to her childhood. She remembered Bella, her sister Bella, not Bellatrix Lestrange who lay dead upon the floor, playing a trick on her for years. Whenever their mother had given them a job to do Bella had offered to toss a coin, saying that if Narcissa won she wouldn't have to do anything. Narcissa always agreed, because it was her big sister giving her the chance to come out on top. Narcissa was eight before she realised Bella's call was "Heads, I win. Tails, you lose".

That was what was happening now, as she watched the protagonists circle each other. Her family would lose, no matter what the outcome, and the result would be either death or humiliation. Of the two, she wanted the latter. Her son's fate was sealed if Voldemort won, and Draco's survival mattered because he was the only chance to continue the line. Society, like a wheel, turned and one day things would change yet again. Perhaps a new Dark Lord would arise, or society would come naturally to it's senses, and the Malfoys would still be there, providing Draco lived to have a son.

Then it was over. Potter had won and any dreams Narcissa may have had for her life were finished. Whilst the victors swirled around them, cheering and crying in turn, Narcissa sat between her husband and son, with her arms around them.

She was quiet, but watchful, ready to shield Draco from whoever may threaten him. It had to be her because her husband was staring blankly at the floor. He had not spoken since the Dark Lord had been killed, and no longer seemed capable of hearing her. Part of Narcissa's mind wondered why he bothered continuing to breathe. He was broken, destroyed, and she realised that this time there was nothing that could save him.

She expected to be chased out of the castle at any moment, or killed where they sat, but nothing happened. They were left completely alone. They were ignored, irrelevant. That was the most damning thing of all. The Malfoys had become nobodies, but Narcissa had known that for weeks.

Eventually a small group of men stood in front of them. She looked up, into the mask that was Kingsley Shacklebolt's face. 'Stand,' he said.

'On whose authority do you speak to me?' Narcissa demanded.

A wand was pointed at her face. 'Up.' She stood, bringing Draco with her. Lucius was pulled up by the other men.

Shacklebolt looked at Draco. 'Show me your arms.'

Narcissa tried to stand in front of her son but was dragged out of the way. Draco looked at her, in resignation, and then pulled up his sleeve. The Dark Mark showed clearly against his skin, which was even paler than usual.

Shacklebolt turned to Lucius. 'I don't need to check you, do I? Nobody will believe your excuses this time, Malfoy, so don't even bother. Hand over your wands, all of you.'

'We don't have any,' Narcissa told him, with as much dignity as she could muster. 'You can check if you wish.'

'Try stopping us.'

The group were searched and it was confirmed they were indeed wandless. 'Take them down to the holding rooms,' Kingsley ordered his men.

They were marched out of the Great Hall and down a flight of stairs. At a door they were ordered to stop. A guard opened it and Lucius and Draco were shoved through. The door was pulled shut behind them and the guard returned to his position in front of it.

'What's happening?' Narcissa demanded of her escort. 'I will stay with my family.'

'Shut up and move.' A wand was jabbed in to her ribs, to emphasise the point.

Narcissa was pushed further down the corridor, to another door and another set of guards. One of them opened the door. 'This is where the naughty girls go,' he said. She was pushed inside and the door slammed shut behind her.

She found herself in a cellar, dimly lit by guttering lamps upon the wall. There were no windows, or furniture. She was in the dungeons, a place she and her friends had dared each other to go when they were younger. Then it had been daring, a thrill. Now it was captivity.

There was only one other person in the room, a woman who lay against one of the walls, groaning and sobbing alternately. Narcissa got close enough to see it was Alecto Carrow and turned her back. Narcissa had always hated the Carrows, jumped up nobodies whose father was hardly fit to carry the title of pureblood. They had been attracted to Voldemort because it gave them free reign to bully and torture; it made them feel powerful.

Narcissa moved as far away as possible and sunk to the floor, preparing herself for a long wait. She could act decisively when she needed to, as she had done in the forest. She had known that saying Potter was dead was the best chance to get to the school and find her son. She had not had to think about what she was doing, it was the instinct of a mother. Here she could do nothing, so cleared her mind of everything and closed it down until it was needed again.

Some time later the door was opened and a young girl was pushed through. She immediately started crying and banging on the door, begging to be let out. Narcissa stood and approached her.

'What are you doing?'

'I want to go home! Tell them to let me go home!'

'What's your name?'

'Tracey Davis.'

'I know your mother. You're a pureblood.'

'Yes,' said Tracey, starting to cry. 'I want to go home.'

Narcissa slapped her hard across the face. 'Then act like one and stop disgracing yourself. Are you going to start crawling and begging to the half-bloods and mudbloods who now rule us? Why are you here, anyway? Why didn't you go home when the school was evacuated?'

'I thought we'd win.'

'Stupid girl. Sit down and keep quite. I have no idea when, or if, we will get anything to eat or drink so save your energy.' Narcissa returned to her corner and closed her mind again.

She didn't react, at first, when the door opened again. It was another youngster who had no doubt thought she was on a great adventure. Then she heard the name Pansy and the new girl asking what had happened. Why didn't she know, if she was there?

'We lost, Pansy, that's what happened. We lost the war and now we're going to lose everything else; our homes, our money...our sons.' Not yet, but it would happen eventually. Draco was too weak to survive long in Azkaban, which is where they would all end up.

Then Pansy was standing in front of her. Her face was scratched and her robe was ripped and stained, but it was Pansy Parkinson. The dead weight in Narcissa's breast eased slightly.

'Narcissa?'

'Pansy. You survived. I suppose there is no point asking why you remained?'

'Where's Draco?'

'Being held elsewhere, along with my husband. Sit by me, as long as you promise not to start blubbering like the other one. Gets it from her mother, of course; she always was theatrical.'

Pansy slumped to the ground next to Narcissa. 'I'm so tired.' Narcissa put an arm around her. 'Are they going to kill us, do you think?'

'I doubt it. They will want us to live so that we might gain the benefits of their wondrous new society, where there is no difference between rich and poor, servant and master and blood counts for nothing.'

They sat in silence for a while, until Narcissa spoke again. 'Are you in love with my son?'

'I always assumed we would marry one day.'

Narcissa managed a small laugh. 'A good answer. Men are there to provide for one, anything else is a bonus. Oh, they're all very clever when making plans to rule the world but absolutely useless in a crisis, as we've seen. Rely on them for a house and money to enable you to live your own life, nothing else.'

'You don't love Lucius?'

'Merlin, no! I'll admit that, even after all he's done to me, I still have a certain affection for him, as one would have for a pet, but I've never loved him. He was the best of a rather poor bunch, if you want the honest truth, but the house is lovely.'

'I always thought life was going to be so simple,' said Pansy. 'Get married, have children, that's about it really. I suppose I will have to work for a living now, won't I?'

'We will have to see what happens. I doubt Draco will be able to offer you anything like Lucius could offer me, but I suspect you will have trouble finding work. You may not have taken the Dark Mark, but you are marked just the same. Do you have news of your family?'

'No. I don't know if my father...I don't know. What of your...relations?'

'Bella is dead,' said Narcissa, in a very final kind of way. 'Strange that I feel nothing for her, but we had grown apart. It may be a kindness, ultimately. I could not see her living without her Master.'

They lapsed back into silence. Pansy dozed against Narcissa's shoulder from time to time, but Narcissa herself remained awake, thinking about the future. The Malfoys had money and land but she doubted the new rulers, whoever they turned out to be, would let them keep it. Neither, she thought, could they be bought off as they had been last time. It was inevitable that justice would have to be seen to be done. Lucius would be returned to Azkaban, as he would be considered an escapee if nothing else. He would have to take his chances.

Draco was her biggest problem. He would be seen as a sympathiser, at the very least, and nobody would believe he had been coerced into many of his actions, especially if the only witness was his mother. She would have to talk to him, and persuade him to take a pragmatic view of the situation; this was not the time for holding the moral high ground. Perhaps it would be best to admit whatever he was accused of and use his age and inexperience as a defence. He had not committed, she was sure, any serious offences so he might get away with a lenient sentence and be able to get on with his life, which would be salvaging whatever he could of the Malfoy estate. Then they would entrench and wait for the future.

Narcissa looked at the girl at her side. She had been a very potential daughter-in-law. Not from the top drawer, admittedly, but there were so few eligible girls these days. The great families had withered away over the years, so it was a case of taking whatever was on offer, rather like her own situation.

Pansy was one of the better ones. She knew how to behave, and had a certain bearing about her. Such a shame her father was in trade, but she could rise above that. Narcissa had been carefully grooming her since she was quite young, ensuring she was invited to parties and dinners, and had grown rather fond of her. She was almost like a daughter, in many ways.

Now all that was in doubt. Draco had very little to offer and Pansy might decide she could do better elsewhere. Narcissa, for all the investment she had made in the girl, would be very disappointed if emotion came in to it. Draco would have to lower his sights and take whatever was available, if it came to it. His son was the one who really mattered, so it was rather essential he be born eventually.

The day dragged on. Eventually the door opened and food and drink were dumped carelessly on the floor. Later, some blankets were thrown in. It was all done so quickly that there was no chance to ask any questions, but it was obvious they would be here at least tonight. They made themselves as comfortable as possible but sleep evaded them. Not knowing what was going to happen, or when, weighed on their minds.

The next day, they assumed it was day as there was no natural light available, the door opened once more and Tracey Davis was called out. Narcissa simply shrugged at Pansy's questioning look. About an hour later it was Pansy's turn. She looked frightened and clung to Narcissa, who put a gentle hand on her cheek.

'Remember your dignity and blood status; it is all you have left. Go with them. They will not hurt you.'

Pansy looked back as she reached the door and Narcissa nodded to her. She could do nothing now except wait.

Later in the day, possibly towards nightfall, the door opened again and three men entered. She was ordered to stand, which she did, and was magically bound with rope. Alecto Carrow, who had never been anything but semi-conscious, was bound where she lay and lifted by two of the men.

One of them looked at Narcissa. She realised she had an advantage over her captor, and that raised her spirits slightly. He could not, and would not, strike a defenceless woman so she returned his stare, unblinkingly. It was he who broke contact, lowering his eyes.

'You're being taken to the Ministry for further questioning.'

'Further questioning? Obviously the previous session has slipped my mind.'

The man looked awkward. 'Questioning. Shut up.'

'Then there seems little point in being questioned.'

The man raised his hand and she stared at him. He lowered it. 'Follow me.'

The group moved through the school, Carrow being carried. Everything was silent, the school appearing deserted. That explained her incarceration in the dungeon. The victors had been repatriated first; she could wait her turn. She wondered where her husband and son were, but knew there was no point asking. She would not give these minions the satisfaction of not answering her.

They were taken to Hogsmeade station, where the Hogwarts Express stood ready, and placed in a goods wagon. Their bindings were not removed and the guards took up position by the door, wands drawn.

Narcissa made herself as comfortable as she could in one of the corners and closed her mind again. The train pulled out of the station, starting its journey towards London and her journey towards whatever the future had in store for her.


	3. Chapter 3

Pansy had problems keeping up with the man as she followed him along the passages of the school. Her lack of sleep was catching up on her; she had never been so tired. Eventually they reached a room and it was indicated she should sit. Opposite her sat another man, who regarded her coldly for a while. Then the questions began.

'You are Pansy Parkinson?'

'Yes.'

'Were you at the Battle of Hogwarts?'

'I was close by.'

'Did you fight on the side of Tom Riddle?'

'No.'

'What did you do?'

'I tended the wounded.'

'Whose wounded?'

'His.'

'Did you attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry during the last academic year?'

'Yes.'

'Were you tortured?'

'No.'

'Did you torture anybody?'

'You don't know what it was like, they...'

'Did you use any Unforgivables?'

'Yes, but...'

'Why?'

'They would have been used on me. But then I...'

'You were found under a bush. What were you doing there?'

'Hiding.'

'Who were you hiding from?'

'I don't know.'

'Why were you hiding?'

'I was scared.'

'Scared of whom?'

'Scared of being killed.'

'By whom.'

'Anyone. Everyone.'

'When was the last time you saw Draco Malfoy?'

'I'm not sure...last year...before...'

'Where's your wand?'

'I don't know.'

'Did you try to apprehend Harry Potter so that he could be handed to Tom Riddle?'

'I was scared the school would be attacked.'

'By your "Dark Lord"?'

'Yes. He would...'

'So you admit you are a supporter of Tom Riddle?'

' No. I ...'

'No? Then why did you not defend the school against him, like the other heroes?'

Pansy broke down and began crying. 'I don't know. I don't know anything any more. All the others, they...I don't know. I don't know.'

The man was silent for what seemed like an eternity 'You will be taken to Hogsmeade station and transported to King's Cross. Reside at your home address and do not attempt to leave the country without permission. Do you understand?'

'I can go home?'

The man handed her a piece of parchment. 'This is your travel warrant. You will show it on demand. Get out of my sight, Judas.'

Once she was gone he opened a file on the desk and wrote "Probable low grade Riddle sympathiser due to cultural background. Appears immature and easily led. Admits to using Unforgivable curses but claims duress. Recommendation: No public interest would be served by prosecution."

She was never informed of that.

Pansy was marched to Hogsmeade with a small group of others, including Tracey Davis, under escort by the usual group of men, all visibly carrying their wands. They walked in silence, having nothing to say to each other and being too tired, hungry and thirsty to talk anyway.

At the station they were loaded on to the Hogwarts Express and told which carriages to sit in. The guards patrolled the corridors. As soon as Pansy sat down she fell asleep and didn't wake until dawn. Looking out of the window she could see they were approaching the outskirts of London.

At King's Cross they were ordered off the train and marched up the platform, being stopped just short of the barrier. Those wearing robes were told to remove them and were given coats in the muggle style. They were also given a piece of coloured paper, with some numbers, writing and pictures on it. One of the guards addressed them.

'You will be let through the barriers individually, at five minute intervals. The paper you have been given is called a Twenty Pound Note. It is money, worth about Five Galleons. From here you are on your own. Do not attempt to go to Diagon Alley or the Leaky Cauldron. Aurors are on patrol and will stop you.'

It wasn't explained to them that they were being kept away from that area for their own safety, as revenge attacks on Voldemort sympathisers had being reported. Instead they were left feeling like outcasts from their own world.

The first thing Pansy did, when she got through the barrier, was to use her Twenty Pound Note to get a bottle of water and some sandwiches from a shop. That went fairly well, but the rest of it was a nightmare. She had always travelled to King's Cross with her parents before, using the floo network, but she had been told she couldn't go to the Leaky Cauldron. She would have to get home on her own.

She knew there was a train station in her nearest town, but didn't know how to get there. Asking for help left her tired, frustrated and close to tears. It wasn't that these muggles wouldn't help her, but the answers she received were said in such an obvious tone she started to feel like she was speaking a different language, or was an idiot. What did "Underground to Waterloo" mean? Eventually she told she needed a "Victoria line tube", but that didn't help her as she didn't know what one of those was.

It turned out "the Underground" was like a floo network, in that you went along a tube in a kind of train. You didn't tell it where you wanted to go, though, but waited until it stopped at a little station deep beneath the surface. More by luck than judgement she looked out of the window just in time to see they were at this place called Waterloo, which turned out to be lots of stations all one on top of the other like King's Cross was. She had to use moving staircases, as well, remarkably similar to the one that had led to the Headmaster's office in Hogwarts. Did that mean that muggles also had magic? She was too tired to care.

The final leg of her journey involved a five mile walk because she had spent the rest of her money on train tickets. She'd had nothing to eat or drink since the morning. She was hungry and thirsty and soon developed blisters on her feet. She had to stop frequently to rest, or let the pain subside, and it took almost three hours before she finally got to her front door.

Her mother's scream of relief when she opened it brought her father running to see what was happening. They half-carried Pansy to the living room, hugging her and crying. From various contacts they had known she had left the school and been seen in the Hog's Head, but had heard nothing since. They had gone through two days of hell not knowing what had happened to her, if she were alive or dead. Her father brought her something to eat, and some tea, whilst her mother treated her feet. Then he carried up to bed, just like she was a little child. The story could come out later, when she was rested; for now it was enough that she was safe.

Pansy lay under the blankets, her eyes moving from familiar object to familiar object; pictures and books, even the furniture and curtains. She got out of bed to fetch Simon, her cuddly dragon. She told anyone who asked that he was called Draco, but really it was Simon. She'd known him all her life; he would protect her whilst she slept.

-o0o-

Narcissa Malfoy tried to ease herself into a more comfortable position as light began filtering in to the wagon. Through a crack in the wall she could see buildings and assumed they were approaching King's Cross. Once the train halted they just sat there for about an hour, with nothing happening. Her guards seemed no more informed than she, so she said nothing.

Eventually she was helped out and led up the platform. On the other side of the barrier was some kind of vehicle and she was put in the back, along with Carrow and a couple of men she'd not seen before. There was no sign of her husband or son.

At the Ministry she was taken to a holding cell in the basement. Finally the ropes were removed from her and she was given some breakfast. Then she was left on her own, which was restful, but not for very long. She was escorted to an office, a dour room painted in regulation colours of drab, which contained a desk and two chairs. A man, as drab as his surroundings, was sat in one of them already. She sat in the other.

'You are Narcissa Malfoy, wife of Lucius Malfoy?' he began. Narcissa said nothing and he looked at her. 'Are you going to answer me?'

Narcissa quirked an eyebrow at him. 'I do apologise. When I received my education "you are" constituted a statement, and therefore required no answer. I was unaware the language had changed so significantly.'

'Are you...'

'Of course I am.'

'Are you, or have you ever been, a supporter of Tom Riddle, variously known as...'

'No. Yes.'

'No yes? What does that mean?'

Narcissa gave an _almost_ imperceptible sigh and spoke to the man in the tone she had used on Draco when he was younger and being particularly tiresome. 'No. Full stop. Yes. Full stop. You asked two questions; I gave two answers.'

'You admit you were a supporter of Tom Riddle?'

'I would not be here otherwise, would I?'

'Were you at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on the evening of the 1st of May?'

'Any particular year?'

'This year, obviously.'

'Not to me. Obviously. No, I was not.' The man looked at her in astonishment. 'I arrived at the school shortly before dawn on the 2nd of May.'

'It is alleged that you told Tom Riddle that Harry Potter was dead, when he was still alive.'

'That is another statement.'

'Did...'

'Yes.'

'Why?'

'I wanted to get to the school to find my son. I thought...'

'What spells did...'

'I had not finished speaking. I thought saying the boy was dead was my best chance of doing so. I suspected that the Dark Lord would want to show his body to the people inside to persuade them to stop fighting.'

'What spells did you cast on the 1st of May...or the 2nd. Of this year.'

'None.'

'We could check your wand for Unforgivables.'

'You have it? Will it be returned to me?'

'We don't have it.'

'Neither do I, so that may be problematical unless you can find either it or a reliable witness to gainsay me.'

'I have no further questions at this time, but you may be interviewed again at a later date. Remain at your home address and do not attempt to leave the country without permission. Do you understand?'

'They were very clear instructions. How do you propose I get there?'

'You may floo from here.'

'Where are my husband and son?'

'I am not at liberty...'

'Has the Wizengemot suspended _habeas corpus_?''

'No, of course not.'

'Then where are they?'

'Their names?'

Narcissa stared at him. 'Malfoy, you blithering idiot!'

'All Death Eaters are being held in Azkaban until their trials.'

'How do I contact them?'

'Owl post will get through, but any communication may be read and censored.'

Narcissa stood. 'I am free to leave.'

'Yes.'

'That was a statement, not a question. Did you ever go to school?' She swept from the room before he could answer

The man sat back and mopped his brow, once she was gone. He was a half-blood who had been in Hufflepuff. His NEWT grades were just good enough to get him into the Ministry but he had worked hard since then to get his current position. He had always hated the swagger both Slytherins and Gryffindors had, the easy confidence that came from old money and old power. He pulled Narcissa Malfoy's file towards him. Now it was his turn.

"High level supporter. Wife and mother to known Death Eaters. Clear evidence she was a trusted advisor to Tom Riddle. Recommendation: Prosecution. Charges: Treason."

Narcissa Malfoy stepped out of the fireplace; she was home. The familiarity of her surroundings meant that she could finally let go. The mask she had maintained so steadfastly over the last two days could be cast aside like her robe. Narcissa threw herself into the nearest chair and let the hot, bitter tears flow at last.

It was all over. Her son and husband were incarcerated and it was possible she would never see them again. She had lost everything and there was nobody she could turn to. She had no family, no friends, who could come to her aid. Her whole life was a House of Cards built around power, prestige and money. The power had gone and the rest would soon follow.

She cried until she could cry no more and then looked at her choices. She could give up now, and join Bella, or she could try to survive. The first option would be so easy, but she could not take it until she knew Draco's fate. She needed to be here to guide him; that was her role as his mother.

'Dinky!'

The house elf appeared in front of her. 'Mistress?'

'Run me a bath.'


	4. Chapter 4

The Parkinsons spent most of the next few days waiting for things to happen that never happened. That they didn't know what these things were going to be made it even worse. At the back of their minds was the knock on the door to tell them they were being arrested. It seemed almost inevitable that it would happen because the papers were full of stories. It wasn't just Death Eaters or Dark Wizards who were being rounded up, but shopkeepers or minor Ministry officials who had been seen to support the losing side.

Pansy's father was a worried man. He ran a small business, importing anything from cauldrons to astrology instruments to cheap brooms he thought might sell, and making fancy goods and furnishings for the home market. That he had continued trading right through The Terror, as it was being called, could be evidence enough that he had been a Voldemort sympathiser, if not an active supporter. Certainly some people had thought so, enough to burn down one of his premises.

'Were you involved?' Pansy asked him, one day.

'Not really, not as such. I'll admit I thought some of his ideas had some merit. You know, like stopping all these muggleborns coming in. It's all very well sending them off to school, but what if they can't get jobs? Who ends up supporting them? People like me, that's who, who've spent our whole lives working hard, building up a business and paying plenty of taxes into the bargain. I didn't agree with some of the things he got up to, but you can't make an omelette without breaking eggs. If people would have listened to him it would never have come to this. But now, I don't know what's going to happen.'

'Have the Ministry got anything on you?'

He ran his hands through his hair. 'I never had to put up the signs because I don't sell retail,' he meant the ones that read "No Mudbloods or Blood Traitors Served On These premises", 'and any donations, most of them, all went to the Ministry and through the books. I think I'm pretty clean but people have long memories. I was told to stop supplying a few people and I went along, obviously, but I don't know if they'll come back. The business could suffer.'

He looked at his daughter, who still looked tired and wan. He'd had such hopes for her. She seemed well in with Draco Malfoy at one stage, with prospects of a life he could only dream of. 'What about you,Petal? Did they say anything to you?'

Pansy shook her head, even as she smiled at his pet name for her. When she was little he'd said she wasn't big enough yet to be a whole pansy, so she'd have to be just a petal for a while, and it stuck. 'They told me to stay here.'

'What about Draco? Are are you still with him?'

Pansy went to sit on his lap, burying her head in his shoulder. 'I don't know. I haven't seen him for months and he never wrote to me. Narcissa said he's still alive but I don't know where he is, or if he's hurt or anything. I don't know if he even cares about me any more.'

'Are you in love with him?'

'He's always been there and now he isn't.'

Cecil Parkinson hugged his daughter, it was all he could do.

Somebody had to leave the house, eventually, because they'd run out of bread and the milk had gone off. The problem they had was where to go. Normally they would floo to The Leaky Cauldron, and then into Diagon Alley, but Pansy said she'd been told to stay away. Eventually they decided they would have to use one of the local shops, a muggle one, and Pansy volunteered to go; she'd been cooped up for too long.

Her father had some muggle money about the house, though he couldn't remember where it had come from. Pansy recognised the notes, but wasn't too sure about the coins. One of them said One Pound so that was easy enough to work out, but what about the very strangely shaped one that said Fifty Pence? It was bigger than the One Pound, but she had a feeling that it wasn't worth as much. How many of these Pence were there to the Pound? Her father said he wasn't sure, but he seemed to remember there were two hundred and forty, or something. She decided to see what happened, and just cope with it as best she could. Compared to the last few months, how hard could a bit of shopping be?

It was pleasant to get out of the house, and to feel the sun on her cheeks once more. Pansy could look about her and forget, just for a while, the life she would have to return to.

The shop she found was huge and it was completely different to anything she had been in before. You didn't go to a counter, where an assistant brought you things as you asked for them. Instead, Pansy had to walk around collecting her own goods. The shop was full of people all rushing around, and they seemed to know exactly what they were doing. Nobody spoke to each other; that was the strangest thing for her. It wasn't like Diagon Alley, or Hogsmeade, at all. There, you would go to a shop and the assistants probably knew you by name, or there there would be other people you knew, and could talk to. Shopping was a social event. Here everything was a rush, as if everybody wanted to get out as quickly as possible. There were all these people, but they were all strangers to each other. Pansy wondered if muggles had any kind of society, or did they just exist as individuals? She found it quite disorientating.

Then she had to pay, which was an incredible experience. She couldn't, for the life of her, work out how the rather disinterested assistant knew how much to charge her. Her goods were picked up, and there was a lot of beeping, then she was told how much she owed. Eleven Pounds Eighty Seven, apparently. Pansy asked if that meant eighty seven pence, and was told it did.

'How many pence are there in a Pound,' she asked, and was given a rather odd look.

'A hundred,' said the assistant, in that rather obvious tone she was getting used to from muggles when she tried to enter their world.

'Not two hundred and forty, then?'

The assistant's shrug was interrupted by a laugh from an old woman standing behind Pansy. 'Ooh! It's a long time since we've had that, dearie, before you was both born when we had Pounds, Shillings and Pence and not this new-fangled decimal money.' Pansy gave her a querying look. 'It was much simpler back then; twelve pennies to the shilling and twenty shillings to the pound. You knew where you were with the old money.'

Pansy nodded. It sounded like Galleons, Sickles and Knuts which were much easier to understand. She turned back to the assistant and held her hand out, with all the money in it. The assistant gave her another strange look and took a couple of the notes, handing her back some coins.

'You been living up the Amazon, not knowing about money?' the old lady asked her.

'I've been...in another country for many years,' Pansy replied.

'Ooh! I don't like foreign parts, me. Went to Spain once, didn't like it. You couldn't get a decent cup of tea for love nor money, and they all speak funny. I was glad to come home.'

Pansy nodded, picked up her shopping and fled. She, too, was glad to get away from these strange muggles and come home, until the owls started arriving.

The first carried a card informing her that Theodore Nott would be interred in the graveyard at Godric's Hollow on Tuesday morning at 11 am. There was a hand written note at the bottom, from his grandmother.

"Dear Pansy,

Please come, if you possibly can. Theo may have made some mistakes in life, as did my son, but it would be a comfort to me to know that at least one friend will be present when we lay him to rest.

Eliza Nott."

Only two hours later the next owl arrived, bringing the news that Daphne Greengrass would be interred on Monday. When the third owl landed on the window sill Pansy realised, with a rising horror, that she knew exactly what message it was carrying. Mili hadn't made it either and would be buried the same day as Daphne, both of them in Mould-on-the-Wold.

Of the five of them who had gone to Voldemort's camp just a week ago, three were dead. Of her remaining house mates, she knew nothing apart from the fact that Draco and Tracey were alive.

She couldn't sleep that night. Instead she sat by her bedroom window, hugging Simon to her and watching the world outside drift off into comfortable rest. She shook her head at the waste of it. Had it been worth it, all the death and destroyed lives? Pansy didn't know. She couldn't even decide if they'd been fighting for an ideal or just an idea. She was a pureblood, but wondered why that made her better than anyone else. Maybe she had more right to be a witch than anyone else, but she wasn't sure. She wasn't much of a witch now, that was for certain, because she didn't have a wand. Any mudblood first year could beat her in a duel at the moment, so perhaps where she came from wasn't as important as what she could do. That just seemed so wrong, though. Her whole life had been based on an idea that her entire social circle believed in. They couldn't all be wrong, could they? She was too tired to work it out now, so contented herself with staring out of the window at the moon.

She would go to all of the funerals, she decided. That was a simple idea could think about and focus on. She had grown up with these people, shared a room with two of them for seven years. They had moved from childhood to the cusp of adulthood together. They had laughed and cried and experienced every emotion it was possible to have. They had had their ups and downs, but they were her friends and she had been their prefect. It was her duty, as well as her wish, to go.

The next morning she realised she might have problems putting her plan into action. Without her wand she couldn't apparate. She might be able to borrow one of her parent's but she didn't feel comfortable using them to go any kind of distance. She wasn't too keen on using muggle transport again, either. Consulting a map showed her a possible solution.

All of the funerals were fairly close to Malfoy Manor. Perhaps she could travel there by floo, and stay the night. She knew Narcissa would be on her own, so may appreciate the company, and she had been a help and comfort to Pansy in the dungeons. It was only right she should be thanked for that, and not left alone.

-o0o-

Narcissa was pleased to receive Pansy's owl. At least there was somebody out there who remembered she was still alive. Narcissa had never realised how isolated her life had been. She had no friends, merely acquaintances. Not even that; they were the wives of her husband's business contacts, acquaintances and the Dark Lord's supporters.

The last group were gone forever, either dead or facing prison. The business contacts would follow the money, not the person, and the acquaintances would now be wiping the Malfoys from their collective memories. Better that than being implicated with somebody who was _persona non grata_.

Narcissas's life had been very simple until this point. She grew up as the most eligible daughter of one of the oldest families in Britain. She married the most eligible bachelor there was, and gave him a son and heir. She was mistress of one of the finest houses and they had money and wealth most people could not even guess at. They had power and prestige, even when things had gone wrong. After the first defeat of Voldemort, Lucius had been able to talk – and buy - his way out of trouble by claiming he had been under an _imperius_ curse. Of course, it had helped back then that name and breeding were important. The Wizengemot had either backed Lucius for who he was, or had not opposed him because of the risk of being seen to do so.

He would not be able to get away with it again. Since that time the world had changed, and not for the better. She wondered how much of it was down to Dumbledore. He had become Headmaster of Hogwarts the year before she was born and since then words like meritocracy, equality and rights had spread through their world. Narcissa suddenly felt very old, as if she belonged to a time that was far away and beyond reach.

She stirred herself. The world may have changed, but Malfoy Manor had not, and would soon be welcoming a guest. The House Elves were summoned and Narcissa Malfoy did what she did best; she gave them their orders. A bedroom was aired and prepared, menus decided and the house cleaned from top to bottom. Fresh flowers were placed in the entrance hall. Pansy would receive the hospitality due to her and Narcissa Malfoy would entertain once more.


	5. Chapter 5

Pansy stepped from the floo at precisely eight o'clock, as arranged, and gave Narcissa a kiss on each cheek. 'Thank you so much for letting me stay. I suppose I could have flooed to Daphne's house, but...'

'No, Pansy, not for a funeral. Not even in these times.'

'That's what I was thinking, as well. Anyway, I wanted to see you, to say thank you. I don't know how I would have coped if I'd been on my own when I was captured. Just having you there...maybe I'm not as grown up as I thought I was.'

'Come and sit with me and I shall call for some tea. What time do you have to be at the churchyard? Mould-on-the-Wold, yes?'

'That's right. The service is at ten, then Mili's is at...I can't believe they're both...both...' Pansy put her head in her hands, unable to continue.

'"Dead" is the word you're searching for. Look at me.' Pansy did as she was told. 'You are correct; you are still very young. Things went badly for us, but even if we had won there would have been casualties. That does not mean the cause was not worth fighting for. Nothing worthwhile is easy.'

They sat in silence whilst Dinky served them tea. Once she had withdrawn, Pansy said 'Do you think it was worth fighting for?'

'Of course I do. The cause was right; it was gone about in completely the wrong way, that is all. We supported, in the end, a poor leader. He was a half-blood, as we all know, and we saw how unstable that made him. The men, obviously, were attracted to the more martial aspects of his plan, which proved to be our downfall and we women, who are left behind, must now pay the price. There are two things I will tell you. First, I am not sure if I will see either my husband or son again.'

Pansy looked at her in horror. 'You think they'll be sentenced to death? No, that's not allowed.'

'You do not need a death sentence to kill somebody. Lucius is a broken man, and Draco suffered terribly these last few months. I cannot guarantee either will survive Azkaban for any length of time.'

'Narcissa!' Pansy put her hand to her mouth.

'Secondly, you will never see me cry. I will mourn, but I will not cry in public and neither will you. You will attend these funerals and you will stand straight, with dry eyes. Once you are back here this evening, and in your room, then you may cry as much as you want.'

'I'll try.'

'You will succeed. Now, what are you going to wear?'

Pansy indicated her dress, which was a midnight blue. 'This is all I have.'

Narcissa eyed her critically. 'Where is your robe?'

'They took it off me at King's Cross and gave me a muggle coat so I wouldn't stand out.'

Narcissa looked at the clock on the mantle. 'We have a hour before we have to depart; I know a convenient apparition point in Mould. Let us find you something more suitable.'

An hour later Pansy stood in the entrance hall, awaiting their departure by side along apparition, and took a final look at herself in the mirror. She had a plain black dress, which Narcissa had shortened to just below the knee to reflect Pansy's age, under a plain black travelling cloak. Plain, but both of an exceptional quality. She wore a black hat with a veil covering her face, accompanied by black stockings and black dragon-skin leather gloves and shoes. Only her jewellery had any colour to it, being made of emeralds and silver. She was every inch a Slytherin in mourning.

Narcissa entered, also wearing a plain black cloak, but no hat, and saw Pansy's look. 'I will not be attending the funerals with you; I do not think it would be politic at this time, even though I know the parents. I shall return this evening at six to collect you from the Bulstrode house; it has all been arranged. Dinner will be at eight. It is time to go, take my arm.'

-o0o-

Pansy didn't cry at the funerals, though it was hard. At Daphne's she stood next to her younger sister, Astoria, and held her hand. She knew Astoria from school, and had been her prefect, so that was her job. At Mili's she stood on her own. Apart from family she was the only one there; Tracey Davis didn't turn up, although she had been invited, and there were no others from her year. She didn't ask if anything was known of their whereabouts.

She spent most of the time staring into the middle distance, trying to make sense of what was happening. Two people, who no longer existed, were in boxes that would be put in the ground. Why them? Why not her? Pansy did not believe in fate, but couldn't work out what she did believe in any more. Perhaps it was just luck that meant she had survived. She would live her life and her friends would not; maybe that was all there was to it.

Between the two funerals she went to the Greengrass's house, and was given something to eat. She'd not visited before, so had never seen the picture of the Slytherin girls which had been taken in their first year. Pansy remembered it, because Daphne had set up the camera and then had to run round to be in the picture in time. The first two attempts didn't work and they had all laughed, especially the one where Daphne had tripped and knocked them down like skittles. They looked so young, so innocent – except they weren't. The images flashed through her mind unbidden; laughing at Neville Longbottom when Draco snatched his Remembrall, sneering at Granger for being a mudblood. The seeds had already been sown. Could she have fought against what she had been brought up to believe? Would she have known there was another...

'You all look very happy in that picture.' Pansy turned to see Astoria standing next to her. 'I hated it when Daphne went away, and couldn't wait to join her.' Pansy held the girl as she began to cry. 'Were you with her, when she died?'

'I was close by.'

'Were you fighting? For him?'

'No. We were looking after the wounded.'

'So why was she killed, if she wasn't doing anything?'

Pansy had to think about that. 'I don't know. The camp we were in was attacked and I suppose by then it was just Us and Them.'

'Did you see her get killed?'

'No. I got knocked out, stunned probably.'

'What about afterwards, when you came round? Did you see her body? Was she badly injured?'

Pansy realised that Astoria wanted the comfort of knowing her sister hadn't suffered. She couldn't bring herself to admit the truth, that she'd run away and hidden without a thought for anyone else. However, neither could she lie and say Daphne died instantly, in case she got found out. This girl hadn't been there, she didn't know what survival meant. 'I don't know. I got captured, when I was still unconscious, and taken away. Are you going back to Hogwarts?'

Astoria shook her head. 'I wouldn't, even if they let me. Us and Them.'

'Perhaps.'

'I don't hate you, Pansy, I want you to know that. I just wish...I wish she was alive, even if it meant you were...' Astoria couldn't finish the sentence and started crying again. Pansy held her close.

'Of course you do, I understand. She was your sister, and my friend.' Pansy remained dry eyed as she held Astoria. Part of her wondered if it might have been better for her to die and Daphne live. Death seemed so much simpler than life.

She was tired when she eventually got back to Malfoy Manor, emotionally as much as physically. She wanted nothing more than to go to bed and cry, but dinner was at eight and she knew Narcissa had made an effort, so she took off her funerary garments, put her dress on and brushed her hair. They ate in the dining room. Narcissa sat at her customary position at the foot of the table, with Pansy on her left. They made inconsequential conversation until they got to dessert.

'Did you cry?' Narcissa asked her.

'No,' Pansy replied. 'It was hard, but I didn't.'

'I knew you wouldn't let the side down. I have news, if you're interested.'

'Of course. Is it about Draco?'

'No, I still await his reply to my owl. Vincent Crabbe is confirmed amongst the dead.'

'Another funeral,' was all Pansy could say. 'I suppose I should go, though I never got on with him. Conversation was not one of his talents.'

'Apparently invoking fiendfyre was, but he wasn't quite so skilled at controlling it. There'll be nothing left to bury.'

'He did get very interested in the Dark Arts,' Pansy informed Narcissa. 'That just leaves Blaise and Greg unaccounted for.'

'Gregory is in Azkaban, so I've heard. I think we can safely assume Zabini has been spirited out of the country by his mother, who is no doubt stalking her next victim. Or husband, as she like to call them.' Pansy looked away, slightly embarrassed. She'd heard the gossip, obviously, but it was normally only adults who discussed such things. 'Her difficulty now is that her reputation tends to precede her. I've even heard it said that men have been known to climb out of a window, in order to escape, if she so much as looks at them during an event.'

'Surely not?'

'Come, my dear,' replied Narcissa, 'seven husbands – rich husbands – who all suffered untimely and unfortunate deaths, leaving her their money? Nobody is that lucky!'

Pansy laughed, slightly hysterically, at the ridiculousness of it all. In the middle of burying her housemates she was gossiping like an old washer woman.

'I know,' said Narcissa, taking her hand. 'It's been a difficult day for you, and you've done exceptionally well. I'll pour you a glass of brandy to take up to bed. Drink it all down and then get some sleep.'

Pansy did as she was told, and didn't even have the energy to cry.

The next day was easier, in some ways. There was a familiarity to events but she was, once again, the only friend present. Theo's grandmother was pathetically grateful to see her and she was introduced to several great-aunts. She had nothing to say to them except platitudes. Everyone pretended Theo's death had been nothing but an unfortunate accident and nobody mentioned his father. She was very relieved when Narcissa collected her and they went back to Malfoy Manor.

Pansy tried to pass the time until dinner by reading the newspaper, the first she had seen since the battle. It was full of obituaries of those who had died and were being buried, but only if they had been on the right side. Lavender Brown got half a page, most of it to do with the fact she was a friend of Potter so automatically a hero. There was no mention of her being "friends" with most of the other boys in their year, Pansy noted, just as there was no mention of Theo, or Daphne or Mili. They were quietly brushed aside; if you cannot speak ill of the defeated dead then there is nothing to say at all.

They sat in the library after dinner. Pansy was quiet, thoughtful.

'What is the matter, my dear?' Narcissa asked.

'I'm wondering what will happen next. I don't know what to do. Can I write to Draco, would you mind?'

'Are you still considering him? I'm not sure if that is wise, given the circumstances.'

'I can't just abandon him.'

Narcissa gave her a hug. 'Thank you. He's my son, the only thing in my life that has any real worth to it, but I don't know what is going to happen to him. Would you think badly of me if I said I was scared for him?'

'I'd think worse of you if you said you didn't care at all. You said you thought he may not survive Azkaban, but he's tough. I know that.'

Narcissa shook her head. 'Not any more. When we lost the Dark Lord's trust Draco was constantly tested and he wasn't good enough. He was given tasks they knew he could not complete, just to get back at us and there was nothing we could do to protect him. He would have served, loyally, but he was tested too far and it broke him. Now he will have to pay the price for that.'

'But if he was forced to do things then he can't be blamed for them, can he?'

Narcissa shrugged hopelessly. 'It depends if our new masters want justice or revenge; I suspect the latter to show they are in power. There's nothing I can do to help him, not really.'

Pansy gave her a hug. 'Perhaps you need a glass of brandy tonight? Have you cried at all, even in private?'

'It would do no good, but I shall take up your offer of the brandy.'

Narcissa sat in her lonely bed, warming the brandy in her hand and looking around the room she had first seen as a bride on her wedding night. All of the major events in her life were associated with this room. Draco had been conceived and born here. He was the sum total of her life. If she could not raise him to adulthood her life would be meaningless. She swallowed the last of the drink and lay down. Two hours later she stopped crying and fell into a fitful sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Pansy prepared to depart for home after breakfast the next morning, during which nothing was said of the events of the night before. Whether, or not, Narcissa had chosen to cry in the privacy of her bedroom was her concern alone. She looked up from packing her bag to find Narcissa standing in the bedroom doorway.

'You don't have a wand any more, do you?'

'No,' admitted Pansy. 'It got lost. I suppose there's very little chance of recovering it, so I shall have to go to Ollivander's to find a new one. I feel quite bereft without it, and it does make the simplest tasks so awkward. I never was any good at wandless magic.'

Narcissa looked down at her hands. 'I fear it may be sometime before you can do that. Ollivander chose to defy the Dark Lord and he suffered for it. It will be a long time before he recovers, I think, if at all.'

'What shall I do?'

Narcissa took a long time to make her mind up. 'Come with me.'

She led Pansy deep in to the house, stopping before what appeared to be a bare brick wall. She shielded what she was doing, but a door suddenly appeared and Narcissa opened it. 'Consider yourself honoured. You are probably the first non-Malfoy to enter this room since it was built. Even...well, let's just say nobody outside of the family knows of it's existence.'

It was a small, bare room containing just a few shelves which held long, thin boxes. Row upon row of them.

'Behold the Malfoy wands, going back to I don't know when. You can try to find one that will answer to you, if you wish.'

'Narcissa! But I owe you so much already. This is so kind of you.'

'They will do little good in here.'

Pansy spent a long time running her hands slowly over the boxes. Some made her jerk her hand back, as if she'd received a static shock. From others she got nothing at all. She knew that the wand chooses the witch, and some of them could be very particular. At one box she stopped. A warm, gentle feeling spread up her arm. She picked up the box and opened it, Narcissa taking the lid from her.

'Eight and three-quarter inches, Sycamore and Unicorn hair. It belonged to Ursula Malfoy', said Narcissa, reading the label. 'I know very little about her, except her father was a Burke and her mother was Belvina Black, my great great aunt. How does it feel?'

Pansy moved the wand around. 'It feels...right.' She tried a few simple spells and the wand responded to her beautifully. 'Thank you, I feel whole again.'

-o0o-

Pansy tried to keep herself busy when she got home. Idleness led to brooding, and brooding led to thinking about her friends. Thinking about her friends led to tears. They hadn't deserved to die and she couldn't escape the feeling that they might have died for nothing. She wondered what their lives would be like if Voldemort had won and they had all lived. She couldn't forget what he said about them raising lots of children for his cause, and what she had said to Mili. Would their lives have been rich and happy, or would they have been pawns used for somebody else's ends? Life was bad now, but would the alternative have been any better? She didn't know.

She tried writing to Draco, but each draft ended up being thrown in the bin. What did you say to somebody in Azkaban? She didn't want to be cheerful, or sad, or tell him how miserable she was. At least she was free, for the time being. In the end she wrote a few lines, saying that she had visited his mother, who was well but missing him. She told him she thought about him often, and hoped she would be able to see him again soon. She didn't say anything about the funerals, or give him any news about anyone else. It wasn't a very satisfactory letter, she knew, but at least he would get some post and know there was somebody who still cared about him.

The family owl didn't look pleased when she told her where to take the letter. 'I'm sorry, Athena, but I have to write to him. You do understand, don't you?' The owl walked to the window, looking dolefully back at her before taking off into the darkening sky.

She also took responsibility for the food shopping, having first spent some time studying the money she was going to use. It wasn't that hard, she decided. There seemed to be eight different coins and several different value notes. She spent an hour making up numbers and seeing if she could get the right combination of notes and coins. Mental arithmetic wasn't one of her strong points but she managed, and it was quite fun. It was almost like playing.

It was a fine May day when she left the house, with a promise of summer in the air. She soon reached the shop, but decided to carry on walking and eventually got to the train station. She was thirsty after her walk and saw a tea shop, but hesitated at the door before going in.

Did she really want to do this? She could buy a bottle of drink with the food, if necessary. Going in would mean being near muggles. That was very different to being amongst them when they were going about their business. What would they be like? Would they be grunting at each other and fighting? How clean would the place be and was it safe to drink anything they might serve her? She looked through the window. There was a young couple sat at one table, two older ladies at another and a man sitting on his own reading a book. It all seemed normal enough and then the waiter saw her looking in and smiled at her. She decided to risk it; she had her wand in her pocket if needed. Pansy pushed the door open and stepped inside, smelling the rich flavour of roasted coffee beans and that made her mind up.

'Hi,' said the waiter as she sat at a table, in the corner, near the door and facing the room. 'What can I get you?'

'Coffee.' The waiter gave her a neutral look. 'Please,' she added. His smile returned.

'What sort?' Pansy looked blankly at him and he indicated a board on the wall. It was full of words she didn't recognise, that sounded vaguely like incantations.

She said the first name on the list, making sure she wasn't touching her wand. 'Cappuccino.' Nothing happened, absolutely nothing. 'Please.' The waiter smiled again.

'Will that be Regular or Large?'

'Regular. Please.' It sounded a safe enough response.

Whilst the waiter went off to get her drink she observed the people around her. Closest were the two women. One of them reminded her slightly of Narcissa, in looks, and sounded very well spoken. She listened in to their conversation.

'Well, my dear, what do you expect? If we let all these immigrants flood in and then give them houses and money and let them live off the fat of the land, then taxes will obviously have to rise to pay for it. They won't contribute a penny, will they? Too busy having children at our expense all the time, the same as these youngsters.'

'I know,' replied her companion. 'My father always said that getting rid of conscription was the worst thing to ever happen to this country and I'm starting to see what he meant.'

Pansy switched her attention to the young couple, who were holding hands across the table and staring into each other's eyes, oblivious to everyone else.

She moved on to the man who was sat on his own. His book appeared very serious and learned, and she tried to see what it was about. It was called "_NON-COMMUTATIVE __q__-BINOMIAL FORMULAE", _which didn't help her much. Occasionally he would stop reading and note something on a pad at his side. Pansy looked, but it wasn't words he was writing; if anything it appeared to be Arithmancy.

It was all very strange, strange because it was so normal. She could have been in Madame Puddifoot's.

A cup appearing in front of her broke her reverie. 'Enjoy,' said the waiter, giving her another smile. The cup appeared to be full of foam, with something brown sprinkled on top. Perhaps, thought Pansy to herself, cappuccino was what muggles called butterbeer. She took a cautious sniff, it smelled like coffee. She took a sip. The liquid was hot, and tasted like coffee, and the foam tasted like milk; it was rather enjoyable.

She sipped her drink slowly, looking out of the window at the people walking by. There was something about them she couldn't place, then she realised what it was. They dressed differently to her. They looked like the muggles at school at the weekend. They wore the same, almost uniform, style of dark blue trousers. Virtually everyone seemed to be wearing them; young or old, male or female. She started to feel conspicuous in her dress.

Pansy finished her coffee and stood, the waiter coming over with the bill and smiling at her again. He was almost handsome...and a muggle, she reminded herself. Who knew what diseases he might have? She counted out the exact money to pay the bill and turned to the door. 'See you soon?' he asked. Pansy nodded, it seemed a fairly ordinary thing to do and her drink had been quite pleasant.

Walking back to the food shop she looked in other windows and began to see things she thought she recognised. There were shops selling furniture just like they had at home, and things that looked like cookers. There were large white boxes she didn't recognise, and other boxes with some kind of dark window in the front. Then she stopped, amazed. One of the boxes-with-a-window had a picture on it, and it was moving! Muggles had moving pictures; she didn't know that.

At the next shop, she stopped again. There were mannequins in the window, just like at St Mungo's, but she could see racks of clothes inside, and people. It looked like a real shop. Some of the mannequins had these blue trousers on, and the sign said "jeans". There was no capital letter, or apostrophe, so they didn't seem to belong to somebody called Jean. Maybe that's what the trousers were called, even though it seemed odd. Pansy considered getting a pair, so she wouldn't stand out so much, but then she looked at the price. She didn't have enough money to buy them and get the food, so they would have to wait for another day. She started walking again.

The food shopping was much easier this time. She took a little trolley with wheels on it so she didn't have to carry her goods, and could remember where some things were so she didn't have to walk around so much. At the till she understood what the girl, a different one, said to her and counted out the money. She had to hand over most of the notes. There wouldn't be enough to shop with again; they would need to get some more, from somewhere.

She found her father in his study when she got home, shuffling through some papers. He looked slightly concerned, but smiled when he saw her.

'How did the shopping go today, Petal?'

'A bit better than last time. I think I could get used to it.'

'You were gone a fair while; we were starting to get worried about you. You didn't have any problems, did you?'

Pansy shook her head. 'No, of course not. It was a nice day so I had a bit of a walk first. It was nice to feel the sun on my face again. It was a long winter.' She decided not to tell him about going to the coffee shop; her mixing with muggles may not go down too well. 'Daddy, we need some more muggle money, I don't think there's enough to go shopping with again. Where do you get it from?'

He had a long think about that. 'I'm not sure, to be honest. Now things seem to have quietened down we can probably start going back to Diagon Alley again. There's no need to use the muggle shops.'

'Oh. It's more convenient,' Pansy informed him. 'You only have to go to one shop because it sells all sorts of things. It's like a butchers and bakers and grocers all in one place.' She saw him raise his eyebrows at that, he'd not realised. 'And we don't have to floo to get there.' Pansy had actually quite enjoyed her walk, and getting out of the house. Buying coffee had given her a sense of freedom, too. It was a very small thing, which she could hardly explain to herself, but she could escape from the present for a while.

'It does have some advantages, I suppose,' her father reluctantly agreed, 'and they haven't managed to poison us yet. I wonder if Gringotts will change money? It might be worth a try.' He looked at his daughter and smiled. 'It looks like we'll have to go to Diagon Alley after all. No doubt you'll persuade me to buy you something you don't need, as usual!'

Pansy smiled back at him. She always loved going to Diagon Alley.


	7. Chapter 7

Pansy's departure marked a period of prolonged inactivity for Narcissa. She began to rise later of a morning and would perhaps take a turn around the grounds after breakfast. For the rest of the day she would try to occupy herself in reading or sewing, but nothing could hold her attention. All she had to look forward to after dinner, which she began to take in the drawing room upon a tray, was darkness when she could retire to bed with a glass of brandy.

There were only two interruptions to her routine. The first was an owl from Draco, which she clutched to her breast before reading.

"Dear Mother,

Thank you for your letter, which cheered me. Father and I are physically in good health. We have kindly been allowed to share a cell, which is of great benefit to him.

Nothing has been said regarding any future events; I will inform you as soon as I have news.

I received an owl from Pansy. Should I reply to her?

I hope you are well and my greatest wish is to see you again soon. I have enquired about visiting rights and I am told that the Ministry will make arrangement for such events when they have the necessary resources to consider them.

Your loving son,

Draco."

Narcissa crumpled the letter; it was not even necessary to read between the lines. Lucius was still sunk in depression and Draco was having to nurse him. As for the Ministry having resources to deal with visiting rights she very much doubted it was high on their list of priorities, if it appeared at all. She considered writing a letter, but knew it would do no good; she would probably not even merit a reply from a minor clerk.

A couple of days later she was interrupted in her walk around the gardens by Jack, her gardener, coughing loudly as she passed him. It was obvious he was trying to attract her attention, without actually speaking to her; Narcissa knew how these things were done.

'Good morning, Jack. Are you well?'

'Thank you, M'am. Just a frog in my throat I reckon. It's gone now.'

'Good.' They both paused for a while. 'Is there anything you wished to speak to me about?'

'No. No, M'am. No. I'll be getting along.' He picked up his tools and Narcissa waited for him to "remember" whatever it was he wanted to say. 'Well, now I think on it, there is something.' He fell silent, wiping his hands on his trousers and looking uncomfortable.

'What is it?

'Well, I don't want to cause problems...and I know things have been in a bit of a kerfuffle of late...but it's just that...well...'

'Spit it out, Jack.' These conversations could take all day if one let them.

'I was wondering when...we...might...get our wages, M'am. Not that it causes problems, if it needs to wait,' he added hurriedly.

'Oh, Jack, you are quite correct; I had completely forgotten the situation. Come up to the house now and I shall sort it immediately.'

'I don't want to be causing any inconvenience, like, but it's the lads I'm more concerned with.'

'It is no inconvenience.' They walked back to the house, making awkward conversation about the gardens. Narcissa was careful to make sure everything was praise. They went in through the kitchen door and Dinky was told to make Jack some tea and a snack, or "jaw-bit" as it was known locally.

She went up to Lucius's study, wondering what to do next; he had handled all the accounts. Fortunately, even recently, he kept his records well organised and she soon found his ledgers. Scanning through them she found that Jack and his two under-gardeners had not been paid since March. They were all squibs, as were most human servants in the great houses. It was easier to employ them as they knew the culture and it gave them useful work. It was an arrangement which had been going on for years. Things must have been desperate for him to pluck up the courage to ask.

Narcissa opened the cash box, and was rather surprised at how little was in there. Counting out the wages left even less. Even so, she put an extra galleon in Jack's envelope, and a few sickles in each of the lad's. It would not do to get a reputation as a bad payer; that was the kind of news that travelled fast.

Once he'd left, with effusive apologies for getting what was his by rights, Narcissa went back to the study. If the running of the house was not to go to rack and ruin she would have to take over.

An hour later she sat back, looking at the pile of bills that needed paying; there was certainly not enough cash in the house. Narcissa knew that most accounts were settled on quarter days, and Lucius would often do that by raising promissory notes. All the major families did it, and had done since time immemorial. These notes were, effectively, Bills of Exchange and formed an alternative currency within the wizarding world. However, they were normally signed by the Master of the house and Narcissa wasn't sure if her signature would be accepted. She also thought that, on this occasion, it would be prudent to settle the bills early, in cash. For that, she would need to go to Gringotts.

-o0o-

Narcissa stepped from the fireplace in The Leaky Cauldron just after 9:30 in the morning. London during the summer months was never her favourite place; too noisy, too full of people. She looked across to the landlord, who was polishing a glass.

'Good morning, Tom. Thank you for allowing me to use your floo. I shall return for lunch.' The floo network was free to use but it was traditional that the host of somewhere like The Leaky Cauldron would receive recompense of some kind for providing a service.

'We're fully booked.' He concentrated on his polishing, not looking up.

'I see. I am pleased business is going so well.' Narcissa walked to the yard behind the pub. That was it, she thought, the first snub of the day; he wasn't fully booked and they both knew it. How many more would there be? It didn't take her long to find out.

The walk along Diagon Alley was one of the longest Narcissa had ever made. She never been popular, and knew that, but had always been treated with the respect and deference due to somebody of her position in society. Shopkeepers would bow or doff their caps to her, and rush to open their doors. She would be served first, usually by the most senior assistant, or even the owner himself. People in the street would stand aside to allow her to pass.

Not any more.

People turned their backs on her as she walked past. One man was even brave enough to spit – accidentally, of course – on the ground just in front of her feet. There were calls, but only behind her back. Narcissa concentrated her whole mind on reaching Gringotts. She would certainly not give this rabble the satisfaction of provoking a reaction from her.

Only one person had, even Narcissa would admit, the decency to make his feelings known. As she passed Weasley's Wizard Wheezes one of the Weasley boys, she neither knew nor cared which is was, gave her a look of pure, unadulterated hatred.

Gringotts looked like a building site when she arrived. The centre of the Main Hall was roped off, due to the huge hole in the floor, and the vaulted ceiling was totally obscured by scaffolding.

A goblin stepped forward. 'May I assist?'

Narcissa stared at the damage around her. 'So the rumours are true, then?

'I know of no rumours, Madam.'

Narcissa smiled. 'Of course not. But they did break out of here?'

The goblin rearranged his face to look suitably confused. '"They broke out, Madam"? I am not sure what you mean. We had a problem with one dragon, which escaped and caused the damage.'

'I see. Has my vault been affected?'

The goblin stared into the middle distance and drew himself upright. 'A recent incident has caused some minor damage to the fabric of the building, but the Directors of Gringotts Bank wish to assure their valued customers that the security of deposits remains our highest priority and all such deposits remain unaffected. Gringotts Bank apologises for any inconvenience that may occur during remedial work. If you have any further questions please contact one of our banking representatives, who will be happy to assist you.' He let out a sigh of relief that he had remembered the standard statement.

'Very reassuring. I wish to make a withdrawal from my account.'

The goblin led her to one of the desks, where she was asked for the key to the Malfoy vault. When this had been checked and verified she was asked to step into an office and take a seat. A short while later she was joined by a senior clerk.

'Good morning,' he said. 'I am informed you wish to make a withdrawal from your account.'

'That is correct.'

'May I ask how much?'

'I have some bills to pay, so I will take 1,000 Galleons. Why are you asking? I have never been asked such questions in the past.'

The goblin checked the ledger he was carrying and then he looked at her with a very serious expression on his face. 'Madam, I must inform you that there have numerous calls on your account in recent weeks. A withdrawal of that amount would leave the account seriously short of funds.'

'That is ridiculous! "Short of funds"? What are you talking about?'

The goblin checked his book. 'Madam, you have a little over 1,500 galleons in coinage in your vault.'

'Nonsense.'

'I can assure you there is no error. If you will excuse me for a moment?' He left the room and returned with a folder full of parchments. 'Numerous promissory notes have been presented against your account in recent weeks. I have them here.'

He put the folder in front of her and Narcissa read through it with a rising sense of concern, bordering on panic. She hardly recognise some the names. Septimus Malfoy? She thought he might have lived at some time in the seventeen hundreds. 'I don't understand.'

The goblin looked awkward. 'Promissory notes are based upon confidence and trust, Madam, not only in the general economy, but the issuer. Due to, shall we say, recent events, confidence has fallen. People would prefer to have legal tender in such times.'

Narcissa looked at the stack of parchment in front of her. 'So the name Malfoy is no longer considered credit worthy? Is that the case?' The goblin merely shrugged. 'How many more are there to come?'

'I have no idea. It is a matter for the persons issuing the notes to ensure sufficient funding is available.'

'Can future bills be referred to me, so that I may speak to the presenter and perhaps make other arrangements?

'It is not possible for the Bank to enforce arrangements of that nature, Madam, though we can ask. However, I would caution against it. Bills such as these are payable at first sight on demand. Any indication that there may be a problem would only make the situation worse.'

'I see. What happens if there is not enough money in my vault?'

The Goblin considered his answer carefully. 'That would be a unique situation in our history. The Bank will honour the bills, to protect its own reputation, provided you grant the Bank lien over non-cash assets held in your vault, which you may not remove without the Bank's permission.'

'So I am to sell the "family silver",' said Narcissa, almost to herself.

'Mortgage, perhaps, Madam. Shall I have the document drawn up?'

'I have no option, do I?'

'It is difficult to see an alternative. It will be ready to sign by the time you return from your vault.'

-o0o-

Narcissa left Gringotts several hours later, having taken her money from the vault and requesting an inventory of the other items in it. It had been made clear to her that the bank would, if necessary, sell for whatever they could so it would probably be better if she could arrange sales privately. She had no idea how to go about that and so, with a heavy heart, turned her steps towards Knockturn Alley.

The inside of Borgin and Burkes was as dusty and disreputable as always. Mr Borgin, himself, came out to see who had entered his shop and seemed surprised to see Narcissa Malfoy standing before him. He used his hand to push his greasy hair back from his face and then held it out for Narcissa to shake; she didn't take it.

'Mrs Malfoy,' he said, nervously. 'A pleasure, always a pleasure. May I get you a seat?' He knocked some dust off an old chair and set it before her, but she shook her head.

'I do not have time to sit. I am here on business.'

'Buying or selling?'

'Selling.'

'Ah, I see. Not a good time, I'm afraid. No, not a good time at all. The Ministry is coming down very hard on certain objects, very hard indeed. More than my neck's worth to be caught with anything I shouldn't have, especially if the provenance is doubtful. Not a good time at all, very difficult. Prices is very low.'

'I am not interested in selling the normal items you deal with. This is legitimate trade; jewellery, plate, that kind of thing.'

'I won't lie to you Mrs Malfoy, I know you are related to Caractacus Burke, may he rest in peace, but you're not the first I've had through these doors on the same mission. Times is hard, very hard; too many things taken that had no right to be taken, from people by the wrong people – if you take my meaning.'

'I'm afraid I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.'

Borgin dropped his voice to a whisper, despite the shop being empty. 'Looting, Mrs Malfoy. Looting is what I'm talking about. Snatchers, and those who should have known better, sometimes tried to line their pockets whilst carrying out work on behalf of, well, you know who. If I get caught with anything like that then I'm finished and straight off to Azkaban.'

Narcissa drew herself up to her full height and gave him her most imperious stare. She could almost see Borgin shrink before her eyes. 'Are you accusing me of being a looter, Mr Borgin?'

'No, Madame, of course not. No such thing; I wouldn't dream of it. It's just that...'

'These would all be items from my vault at Gringotts, fully certified by them with the date of deposit.'

'Of course, of course they would. Times is hard, though, Mrs Malfoy. Prices is low, very low, even for quality items. Send me the inventory and I'll see what I can do for you and give you the best price I can, even for me. I've done business with your husband before and, like I say, I know you're related to Caractacus, may he rest in peace.'

'I have full confidence in you Mr Borgin.'

He bowed low. 'Thank you, M'am.'

'Don't be stupid; I trust you no further than I can throw you. I will send you a list and you will find me buyers, that is all. I will pay you a commission on every sale.'

'I normally charge a quarter for that kind of arrangement.'

'You will receive ten percent, or the Ministry may receive an anonymous letter regarding your other storage room.' She saw Borgin's eyes open wide with fear. 'As you say, I am related to Caractacus, may he rest in peace. We knew each other well when we were younger and he could never resist Elf-made wine. It was fascinating the things he showed after a bottle. Just behind the...'

'Ten percent, Mrs Malfoy. Of course, of course. It will be my pleasure.'

Narcissa went straight back to Malfoy Manor after leaving Knockturn Alley, placing a Galleon on the counter of The Leaky Cauldron before stepping in to the floo. She saw Tom pick it up an put it in a charity box; Victims of Voldemort.

She ate the dinner Dinky prepared for her, without really tasting it. She had staved off the inevitable for the time being, and time was what she needed now. If she could get the family through this immediate financial crisis they could, perhaps, make longer term plans once she knew Draco's fate.

As usual, she poured herself a glass of brandy before going up to bed. Before reaching the stairs she turned back and picked up the decanter.


	8. Chapter 8

Pansy accompanied her father to his workshop one day, just for something to do. Sitting around the house for hours, reading magazines or perhaps helping her mother with the cleaning was starting to leave her bored.

Her father's business had consolidated to an out of the way warehouse, whilst the one that had been burnt down was rebuilt. She'd always liked going to work with him but today was different. When they walked in she noticed a tension in the air, along with some empty desks. The manager got up as they arrived and came towards them.

'Good morning, Mr Parkinson,' he said, holding some letters in his hand.

'Good morning, Cuthbert. Is that the post?'

'No, I'm afraid not. Letters of resignation from two of the staff, the youngsters we took on a while back.'

'Resignations? Did they say why?'

Cuthbert looked uncomfortable. 'Thought it was time to move on, said they wanted a change.'

'I see. Did you give them any references?'

'No, Sir, I didn't, and they didn't ask for them. I've held back their last week's wages as well, seeing as how they just walked out.'

'Send the money they're owed on to them, and give references if they're asked for. Things are up in the air at the moment but I don't want anybody who isn't happy working for me. How's business, otherwise?'

'I won't deny it's quiet, so losing them hasn't left us short handed.' He lowered his voice. 'We've a couple of other issues as well. Some people have said they won't buy from us again and some of the suppliers are starting to ask for cash up front.'

Cecil Parkinson nodded his head. 'I suspected that might happen. Let's go into my office and you can talk me through it.' He turned to his daughter. 'Can you occupy yourself?'

Pansy nodded. 'Maybe I can help out a bit. It will give me something to do.' She spent a pleasant hour, whilst her father was in his conference, going round the workshop and talking to the staff, most of whom had known her since she was a baby. They still tended to treat her as one, and she was given far more sweets than she really should have been. She helped pack a few orders, as well, being watched over indulgently as she wrapped and spello-taped goods to be sent out.

All too soon her father came out of his office, looking serious. He called his remaining staff together and they approached, nervously, as he cleared his throat. 'As you know business is slow at the moment and, given what has happened recently, I don't know what will happen in the future. You've all worked for me for many years so the only promise I can give you is that I shall keep trying to get orders, and I will keep you in work for as long as I can.' The staff returned to their desks, quietly. It was the best they could hope for, in the circumstances.

They returned home shortly afterwards, Pansy wondering what she could do.

'Daddy, if you need any help in the business, I could do something, couldn't I? Even if it's just helping out with orders and things until everything gets sorted out.'

He gave her a hug, and kissed the top of her head. 'It wasn't what I had in mind for you, being a factory girl.' He sighed and slumped into a chair. 'I've let you down, haven't I?'

'No! Of course you haven't.'

'I have, Petal. I wanted so much more for you than I've got and I gambled with your future. I've built the business up by spreading the risk around, not concentrating on any one thing in particular. I pushed you towards the Malfoys, thinking they could give you everything I couldn't, but

it hasn't worked and I don't know what will become of you.'

She sat on his lap. 'I've survived worse than this.'

'Was it very bad, at the battle? I wish I could have got you out in time.'

'Time was the one thing we didn't have. Everything happened so quickly but I was never in any real danger. He wouldn't let us fight so I just stayed in his camp.'

He smiled sadly at her. 'Why do I not quite believe you? Fine, I'll see what I can do about getting you some jobs to do. Anyway, I suppose we'd better go to Gringotts at some stage, before we start starving.'

It was decided that they would go to Diagon Alley the next morning, leaving early and getting out as soon as possible. Cecil Parkinson was worried the trip would not be a pleasant one, and he was minded to leave his daughter behind, though she probably wouldn't agree to that and he didn't have the heart to order her to do it.

Before they could go, however, a distraction arrived in the form of a letter for Pansy. She opened it to discover it was from Draco.

'Pansy,

I am glad you are safe. I had heard about the others and I worried about you. Things are not looking too bright at the moment, as you can probably guess. I don't know what will happen next, but it might be an idea for you not to write again. I can offer you nothing except my name, which will be of no use to you and being associated with me will only bring you problems. Please, for your sake, forget about me and move on.

However, if the worst happens can I ask you, as a fellow Slytherin, to look out for my mother? She has always been fond of you.

Draco.'

Pansy read the letter through several time, with tears forming in her eyes. Draco, who had always been so confident and in control, was lost and alone. He was telling her to stay away from him because he was bad news now. She knew he had taken the Dark Mark, and had been implicated in Dumbledore's death and he would have to pay the penalty, but could she just desert him? They had known each other for years, and she had always believed that one day they would marry. She remembered Narcissa's words regarding Lucius, "I still have a certain affection for him, as one would have for a pet". Had she loved Draco, or was it merely affection and duty? Pansy didn't know the answer to that but, even if it was just duty, she couldn't desert him any more than she could have let her friends be buried alone. But, would going against his wishes simply cause him more anguish? Pansy didn't know, but she knew who to ask.

She ran down the stairs, calling out to her parents that she needed to make a visit and would be back for dinner. By the time they came to see what was happening she had already stepped into the fireplace.

'Pansy?' Narcissa roused herself from a doze as she heard the fireplace flare.

'I'm sorry for barging in, but I had...'

They were disturbed as the drawing room door opened and Dinky rushed in. 'Mistress, is everything...?' She skidded to a halt when she saw Pansy. 'Dinky apologises for interrupting.'

'That is quite understandable. Will you bring tea?' Dinky bowed and withdrew. 'Come and sit with me, Pansy. I'm afraid the elves are getting rather protective of me recently.'

Pansy sat as she was told, but was rather shocked in the change she saw in her hostess. Although it was afternoon Narcissa was still wearing a dressing robe. Her hair was unbrushed and she wore no make-up. A plate with a half eaten sandwich was on the table, along with a decanter of brandy and a glass that was still damp.

'So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? I am pleased to see you, by the way; it gets rather lonely here.'

'I need your advice, and it concerns Draco.' She showed Narcissa the letter, which was hidden whilst Dinky served the tea. Narcissa took a sip and shuddered, reaching for the brandy decanter to add a measure before offering it to Pansy, who declined.

Narcissa shrugged and took a mouthful of tea, closing her eyes as the liquid went down. 'Now, this letter...' Once it had been read Narcissa laid it aside. 'What do you want me to say? His instructions seem perfectly clear.'

'This is your son. I can't just turn away from him.'

'Why not? Everyone else will. Pansy, listen to me. Leave the heroics to the winners. You have the rest of your life to live, and you must do what you can with it. Draco can offer you nothing.'

'Narcissa!'

'What do you want from your life?'

'I don't know. The usual things, I suppose. Marriage...'

'Being a social outcast? Penury? That is all my son can give you, when he eventually sees daylight again. By then, who knows where we will be.' She looked around the room and took another drink of tea. 'Probably not here, it will have to be sold along with the rest.'

'What do you mean?'

Narcissa picked up a sheaf of parchment that lay on the table. 'This arrived from Gringotts this morning.' She explained the outcome of her trip to the bank several days previously. 'It all has to go. I've even cashed in the Notes we have had over the years. There are not many of them, and they are from families we are mostly related to, but what can one do? I have to pay the bills. I shall send this list on to Borgin, who has agreed to act as my agent for ten percent.'

'Do you trust him?'

'Of course not, but what alternative do I have? As I said to you, there is nobody else.'

Pansy looked at the inventory as Narcissa poured herself more tea, adding another dash of brandy to it. 'My father knows people. Perhaps he would be willing to speak to them.'

Narcissa put her tea cup down. 'Why would you want to help me, after all I've just told you.'

'Because you put your arm around me when I was alone and frightened, and told me not to be scared.' She gave Narcissa a hug. 'It's my turn to return the favour. Things will work out, Narcissa.'

Pansy left shortly afterwards, carrying the parchments. Before she did, on the pretence of excusing herself, she spoke to Dinky. 'Can I suggest you start adding water to the decanters?'

'Is that an order, Mistress?'

'Yes.'

Dinky heaved a great sigh of relief. 'Thank you.'

-o0o-

Cecil Parkinson put down the parchments. 'She has some very nice pieces here. It's a bit out of my league but I can talk to some people I know. Did you say anything to her about commission?'

'We can't charge her!'

'Petal, business is business. We need money just as much as she does.'

'She said she was going to pay Borgin ten percent.'

'I shall write to her and offer seven and a half. The people I know are probably of a higher standard than Borgin's contacts, so we'll both make on the deal.'

'It doesn't sound quite right, some how.'

He ruffled his daughter's hair. 'Are you sure you were in Slytherin? You weren't just pulling the wool over my eyes all those years?'

Pansy laughed, and gave him a hug. 'Sometimes I forget. So, what's my cut going to be?'

'What!'

A sly smile spread across her face. 'I am a Slytherin, as you just reminded me, and I've just brought you in a potentially very profitable piece of business.'

'You little minx!'

Pansy stroked her chin, thoughtfully. 'I'll take an advance payment tomorrow, when we get to Diagon Alley.'


	9. Chapter 9

Pansy wondered, the next morning, if she should go with her father. When they'd sent her home from Hogwarts she'd been told to stay away from The Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley, but that had been weeks ago and she'd heard nothing since. They couldn't ban her forever, could they? She decided to take the chance and come home if she was turned back.

There was a frisson of excitement as she got herself ready. Diagon Alley was one of her favourite place to go and she loved seeing what she could find in the shops. Of course, that had been before, when she could perhaps arrange to meet...with her friends.

Once more, Pansy's emotions swooped. Every day was like two steps forward and one step back. Just as things seemed to be improving a memory, or a thought, would drag her back down. She'd never go shopping with her friends again, never sit with them having something to drink in one of the tea shops whilst they examined their purchases. It took her a while to calm herself down and remind herself that the past would always be with her, but this was today and she had to go on, even if her expectations had been tarnished.

Diagon Alley had changed since the last time she was there, though it was less than a year ago. Then there had been either a tension or excitement in the air, depending on which side you belonged to. People had hurried about their business, always looking over their shoulders. Now it was quiet. The people were still there, but there seemed to be a heaviness about them. Pansy realised that they, too, were carrying their history with them.

Nobody bothered her much, although she thought she heard a call of "Judas" but, when she turned around, there was nobody there. Only once was she approached, by a small girl whom Pansy thought looked vaguely familiar.

'Hello, Pansy,' said the girl, shyly. She turned to her parents. 'This is my Head Girl, Pansy. She's the one who took me to the floo in Hogsmeade when we were sent home.'

The girl's parents took her hands in theirs. 'Thank you, said the girl's father. 'Thank you for looking after our daughter and keeping her safe.'

Pansy shrugged it off. 'It was my job, that's all.' She looked at the girl. 'I'm glad you got home safely.'

The adults squeezed her hands again and led the little girl off, although she turned back to wave and smile.

She didn't really fancy going to Gringotts with her parents so arranged to meet them later, when she'd had a look around. She kept herself to herself, just moving through the crowds and mostly looking in shop windows. In one shop she saw a rather nice bag in the window, so thought she'd go inside to investigate. The door opened as she approached it and she found herself face-to-face with Granger, who was being shown out effusively by the owner.

Pansy froze, as did her nemesis. Both girls stared at each other, for what seemed like hours, until Pansy dropped her eyes and moved to the side. Granger said nothing to her but walked quickly away, the look on her face being the only conversation they needed to have. It must have been pure coincidence that she happened to toss her head as she passed, whipping Pansy across the face with her hair. Pansy fled towards the sanctuary of the bank telling her parents, when she met up with them, that she had a headache and would they mind going straight home?

She spent the day in her room, hugging Simon and wondering what the rest of her life was going to be like. Now she was the one who had no friends, no welcome, whilst the mudblood was treated like royalty. The only person who welcomed her was Narcissa Malfoy, whose son had told her to stay away from him, for her own sake. Her old world had gone, and could offer her nothing. Once the tears had subsided Pansy came to a decision. If nothing was offered to her then she would have to take control of her own life, somehow. Anyone who wouldn't accept her could go to hell.

-o0o-

She awoke early the next morning. Now that they had some more money she could buy food, and go for another coffee. Collecting the shopping list she left the house and started walking. Before long she noticed a bus, heading in the direction she was going. It was rather like the Knight Bus, but moved more sedately. On the front it said "Train Station" and it came to a halt not far away, by a post with a sign that said "Bus Stop" on it. Seeing some people getting on Pansy ran to join them, listening to what they said to the driver and copying them.

'Train Station, please.'

'50p' replied the driver, and she gave him one of the funny shaped coins in her bag. In return he gave her a little piece of paper.

It was ridiculously easy and before long she found herself at the train station, having saved a five mile walk. Even better, the bus also stopped at the shop where she went to buy food. She could get it to all the places she needed to go!

Pansy was about to go for coffee when she changed her mind and headed for the clothing shop she had seen on her previous visit. They still had the "jeans" in the window, so she went inside. An assistant approached her, smiling.

'Can I help?'

'I want to buy a pair of those trousers...jeans you have in the window. Please.'

'Certainly. What size?'

'Oh. I don't know.' Crestfallen, Pansy turned to the door.

'Try a size 10, short,' said the assistant, moving towards a rack and selecting a pair. 'The changing rooms are at the back of the shop.'

'Thank you.'

Pansy tried on the jeans, which felt strange compared to a dress. The material was quite rough on her legs, and she wasn't sure how comfortable they were. Everyone else seemed to wear them, though, so maybe it was just a case of getting used to them. She decided she would give it a try today, to see how she got on. Then she realised she couldn't, because she had nothing to wear with them and they would look silly under her dress. On the other hand, she had plenty of money on her and the shop was full of clothes...

An hour later she left behind a very happy assistant, who was well on her way to becoming salesperson of the month, and carrying several large bags, one of which contained her dress. The assistant had been only too pleased to recommend some tops to go with the jeans, and a pair of ankle boots that even Pansy admitted looked good on her. Then she found a skirt that was green – and had a silver snake motif down the side – so she chose a pair of sandals and some more tops to go with it...a jacket...

It could be her commission from the sale of Narcissa's item, Pansy decided...and hoped her father would agree with her.

She felt strange as she walked to the coffee shop. It wasn't just that the clothes felt different on her, but that she felt different in them. Now that she was dressed like everyone else she blended in more. Only she knew she wasn't the same as these people, they didn't. It was as if she were a spy, infiltrating an enemy camp, who could be unmasked at any moment. However, this time she was less uneasy about entering the coffee shop, and sat at the same table. The same assistant as before came over to take her order.

'Hi,' he said, smiling, 'good to see you again. Same as last time?'

'Yes, please.'

He went to get her order, soon returning with the cup and some biscuits on a plate. 'Compliments of the house,' he said, placing them on the table.

'Thank you.' Pansy was a little peckish.

'Are you new around here?' the boy asked her. 'I'd not seen you before the other day.'

'I've...been living abroad.'

'Interesting! Anywhere nice?'

'Scotland,' said Pansy.

'Good one!' The boy laughed, leaving Pansy a little confused; she hadn't thought it was funny. 'I'm Mike, by the way.'

'Pansy,' said Pansy.

'Nice to meet you, Pansy. Enjoy your drink,' he said, with a smile, moving away to serve another customer.

She sipped her drink, slowly, watching the mugg...Mike as he served other people. He didn't seem to chat to them as much, and she didn't notice any complimentary biscuits being handed out either. Pansy may have been with Draco all the time she was at school but it hadn't stopped her seeing things. Was he trying to pick her up? If so, it was a fairly blatant attempt, to be honest; something one of the fourth years may have tried.

There were two problems if he did, and Draco was the first. She'd known him forever, and was virtually promised to him. To go with somebody else would be almost an act of betrayal in his hour of need and Pansy couldn't walk away from him, despite his letter. If nothing else he was the only link to her childhood left.

Secondly, Mike was a muggle. That gave her an advantage because she knew what he was, but he had no idea who he was dealing with. Also, she knew a few additional things about him, like where he worked. Even so, he was a muggle. It was different when they were doing work they were capable of, like serving her when she bought clothes, food or drink. Engaging with them at a social level was a different nest of Nifflers, especially in a situation that could have romantic connotations. Her stomach lurched at the thought of letting him touch her, and yet he was quite attractive and seemed carefree in his attitude. He laughed and smiled a lot, which was not something she'd experienced much of recently. Could it do any harm? Oh, it was all so difficult.

Pansy left the last mouthful of coffee in her cup, until it had gone cold , whilst she weighed up her options. Then another thought occurred to her; maybe she was completely misreading the situation and he was just doing his job. The cheek of it! He had no right to make her look a fool by getting her confused and worried when he was just trying to get money out of her. Typical muggle behaviour; he could go to hell with the rest of them! Pansy drained her cup, collected her bags and stood up. Mike approached, smiling nervously.

'Thanks for coming in again.'

'Yes,' she said, coldly, as she made for the door.

'Pansy, wait.' She turned to face him. 'I was wondering...if you're new around here...if you...I don't really know anyone either. I'm at the Uni up the road, but I've stayed over the summer to earn some money. Maybe we could...sort of...if you fancied it...meet up. Tonight? You know, go for a drink...or something.'

'Meet up? You and I?'

'Yes, if you wanted to, and you're not doing anything. We could maybe have a drink and go for something to eat, or see a film. Maybe.'

Two of the three things he said made sense. 'I'm not doing anything tonight.'

'Shall we meet by the clock outside the train station at seven?'

Pansy took a deep breath, thankful that the wand Narcissa had given her was small enough to fit into a bag. It would come with her on her evening out. 'I'll see you at seven.'

Mike looked as if the weight of the world had fallen from his shoulders. 'Great! See you then.' He gave her a smile and held the door for her.

Pansy took her time over the food shopping, not wanting to rush home. Going home meant planning for this evening. What on Earth had she been thinking? She'd seen enough of Muggles now to know that most of the stories she'd been told, especially the more extreme ones, were wrong. They weren't animals, but they were still different to her. Their world was not hers...but neither was her own.

Getting back to the house she put her food shopping in the kitchen before rushing up to her room; she didn't want her parents to see her purchases which, in the cold light of day, did look rather a lot. After pacing up and down for a while she decided she would meet Mike, as she had promised. She had promised, even if he was a muggle. What was she going to wear? The jeans were rubbing her legs, just slightly, so she decided on her new skirt. She wondered about the design, but it must be pure coincidence. Even so, having something that reminded her she used to be a Slytherin was comforting, given where she was going. After selecting a top to go with it she then did what any girl, anywhere, would do in her situation; she headed for the bathroom to get ready, having collected some food first. This would take a while.

Her mother had asked what was going on but Pansy said she felt like pampering herself for a change, and maybe she'd go out for a walk later as it was a nice evening. The clothes were explained away as things she'd had for ages, honestly. By five-thirty she was ready to go.

Her first thought was that the owl tapping at her window was from Mike, confirming their date. Then she remembered he wouldn't use one. She pondered briefly on how Muggles kept in touch with each other. Opening the window she let the bird in, removing the letter from its leg.

'Pansy,

The trial date has been set. We've all been charged. Please, I need to talk to somebody. I'm so scared and there is nobody else I can turn to. Please come as soon as you can.

Narcissa.'


	10. Chapter 10

Pansy stepped from the floo a little before six o'clock, according to the clock on the mantel. Perhaps, she hoped, the immediate crisis could be averted and she could still make her date. Then she noticed two things at once; the smear of soot down her skirt and Narcissa sprawled across the chaise, a parchment in her hand and a half-empty decanter of brandy on the floor.

'Narcissa? What's happened?'

Narcissa handed her the parchment and reached for the decanter, which Pansy removed from her hand and put out of reach.

'If I'm going to help you I need to be able to talk to you. What's happened?'

'The end of the world, Pansy. Read it.'

The parchment was a summons, signed by Kingsley Shacklebolt, ordering Narcissa to surrender herself to Azkaban by twelve noon on the 10th day of August, in preparation for her trail which would be held in London on the 11th, where she would be tried for sheltering criminals, conspiracy to murder and treason.

'But you didn't do any of these things, I know it.'

'Bella and all the others took over the house after they broke out of Azkaban.'

'Did you have a choice in letting them in?'

'Of course not.'

'So you weren't sheltering anybody, you were being held hostage. As for the others, that's just ridiculous. Isn't it?'

Narcissa dragged herself upright. 'You think they care about that? You think they're going to worry about the truth? Who, in their right mind, is going to defend us?'

'You can call witnesses.'

'Who? Bella? Oh no, she's dead. The Dark Lord? It's a show trial, Pansy. They've already decided I'm guilty. They're only calling one prosecution witness, just for form's sake.'

'Who?'

Narcissa gave a hopeless laugh. 'Potter. Who else do they need?'

'If the trial is going to be in London, why do you have to go to Azkaban?'

'Probably so they can drag me through the streets on a tumbrel.'

'Look, I know this has come as a terrible shock. Why don't we get Dinky to make you a sleeping draught and I'll come back tomorrow with my dad and see what we can come up with?'

Pansy glanced at the clock. She could change into her jeans and perhaps apparate...Narcissa gripped her hands. 'Please don't leave me, not tonight.'

Pansy paused before answering, but knew she had no choice. 'I'll stay, of course I will.'

'I know I shouldn't ask you this, but, will you come with me, when I have to go to...that place. I don't know if I could face it on my own.

'Yes.'

Narcissa spent the evening talking, which was good because it meant Pansy didn't have to. She watched the hands on the clock creep past seven, and then eight, as Narcissa told her what happened after the Dark Lord had taken over, how she and her family had been held in their own house and treated no better than the elves. Lucius had not been trusted with any tasks, whilst Draco had been forced to mete out punishments to those who had failed their master.

'I tried to protect him, as any mother would, but I couldn't. Even when Potter was brought here, I tried to make Draco say who he was, and the mudblood girl...'

'They were here?' Pansy asked. 'Potter and Granger?'

'They'd been captured by the snatchers, along with one of the Weasley swarm. We all suspected who they were, but Draco wouldn't confirm it; I don't know why.'

'How did they get out?'

'One of our former House Elves, a treacherous piece of filth, rescued them. The Dark Lord was already on his way. I thought we were all going to die that night, and it would have been a release.'

They lapsed into silence, ignoring the food that Dinky had left in the room, and Pansy continued to watch the clock as it moved inexorably past nine and beyond. He would know by now that she wasn't coming.

'...do for me. Pansy?'

'Pardon? Sorry, what did you say.' Pansy tried to concentrate.

Narcissa started again. 'Can you get some parchment and a quill? I want you to write down some things you will need to do for me.'

'Do for you?'

'After the trial, when we are all in Azkaban.'

'It may not come to that.'

'It will, and you are the only person I can trust.'

Pansy went to the desk to gather parchment and quills, as she had been told. 'What do I have to do?'

'I will need you to contact my sister Andromeda. Lucius has no living relatives and I want the house protected. She is the last Black who is able to place blood wards. You will need to be present when she does so as I am giving you, and you alone, permission to cross them. You will need to do that in order to take things for your father to sell.'

'You want him to continue?'

'Yes. Place the money in our Gringotts account so that there is something for Draco if...when he is released. I will leave a letter for Andromeda on the secretaire explaining what to do about the squibs and house elves, so that need not concern you.

There is one other thing I want you to know, and the real reason I am giving you access through the wards. I am making you chatelaine in my absence. You will remain so until Draco marries. If he...if he dies before then the property will become yours and the wards will automatically lapse. The house will be yours to do with as you wish. Is that clear?'

'Yes. But, Narcissa...it is all too much.'

'Nonsense. Had things have been different I think you and Draco would have married eventually, therefore you would have become Mistress of this house after me. It was my hope and it may still happen, but I think it unlikely. I am speaking my mind, I know, but I see little point in beating about the bush under the circumstances. The house must go to somebody and, if the worst comes to the worst for us, I would rather it was you than anybody else.'

'Your sister?'

'I require her to do her duty as a Black, that is all. I am certainly not going to allow that...grandchild of hers any access. I have not fallen that far.'

'What if she refuses?'

'She will not; there are ties that will compel her. Have you written all that down and understood it?'

'Yes.'

'Good. Now hand me back that decanter, and please do not tell Dinky to water it down in future.'

'Should you be drinking...well, like you are?'

'Nothing I do in the next few weeks will have any impact on the future, so I may as well do whatsoever I wish whilst I still have my liberty. Will you stay the night?'

'Of course.'

Narcissa poured herself a generous glass and took a gulp, before taking Pansy's hand in hers. 'Thank you for being here. I know I should be strong, but it is getting so hard. Just as water can wear away stone, so I have been worn down. I have nothing left.'

'Except your dignity and blood status. You said that to me once, and gave me a shoulder to lean on. I won't desert you.'

-o0o-

Pansy discussed the situation with her father when she returned home the next day. He was broadly sympathetic but cautioned her not to be seen to be too supportive in public.

'It sounds harsh, I know, almost disloyal, but you have to think of your future, Petal.'

'I can't turn my back on them. Anyway, we're already helping them, aren't we? We're helping sell their goods. Have you had any luck?'

Cecil shrugged. 'I've had a couple of enquiries, but this is all good stuff. It isn't the best market to sell in at the moment; money's tight all over the place and once people know who the owner is the price tends to drop. The jewellery can be broken down, if necessary, but that means the pieces are only worth scrap value. I'm seeing one of my French contacts next week; things might be different over there.'

'I hadn't thought of export. Will there be any problems sending it out of the country?'

'I don't think so, but I suppose I should check. When I bring goods in I just have to tell the Ministry, to confirm it isn't on a banned list. I'm not going to be exporting, as such, anyway. These will all be private sales.'

'We have to do as much for her as we can. I promised.'

Pansy had made another promise, as well, and one she needed to resolve. Using the excuse she needed a walk she caught the bus to the train station. That was the easy part; going in to the coffee shop took a lot longer, and a few false starts. At one point she almost persuaded herself Mike was just a muggle, and she should forget about him. Then she opened the door and walked in, sitting at her usual table. Mike came over to her.

'Can I help you, Miss?'

'I'm sorry.'

'I waited two hours for you to show up,' he sounded hurt, rather than angry. Pansy wasn't sure if that were preferrable.

'I had a family problem I had to deal with.' She tried not to sound as if she were pleading. 'It was an emergency.'

'You could have phoned.' Pansy didn't know what to say because she didn't know what he meant. Fortunately, Mike supplied the answer. 'I never gave you my number, did I?'

Pansy seized on it. 'No, you didn't. Do you want to try again tonight?'

Mike smiled. 'OK. I'll give you my number, though. Just in case.'

'Yes.'

'Anyway, same as usual?'

'Why not, as I'm here?' She smiled at him, for the first time. 'Thank you.'

-o0o-

'But Pansy, dear, where are you going?' Pansy's mother had just been told Pansy would not be in for dinner again this evening. 'Are you going to see Narcissa again?'

Pansy knew she really shouldn't say "yes". 'Yes.'

'That's very kind of you, but why aren't you taking the floo?'

'I'm fed up having to vanish soot from my clothes. Anyway, I need to practise apparating with this new wand.'

'Give her our regards, won't you?'

-o0o-

'Hi!'

'Hello. I made it, this time.'

'No family crisis?'

'I'm sorry about that, but I had to go.'

'I know. We had to cancel a holiday one year when my gran fell over and broke her arm. Six weeks she stayed with us.'

'Why didn't you give her...? Nothing.'

'So, what do you fancy doing?'

'A drink, you said.'

'Great. How old are you, by the way?'

'Eighteen. Why?'

'Just making sure we aren't going to be thrown out of the pub. I'm twenty. There's a nice place down by the river we could go to; The Three Horseshoes. Do you know it?' Pansy shook her head. 'Ah, that's right; you've only just moved here from...abroad.'

The pub was picture perfect, all beams and a lawn sweeping down to the river, where willow trees swayed gently in the warm evening breeze. Mike asked what she wanted to drink, and there was a moment of quick thinking.

'What are you having?' she asked.

'A pint of lager, probably.' Pansy said she'd have the same, hoping she'd like it.

The drink turned out to be cold, fizzy, very sweet and rather delicious. They settled themselves at a table. Once the first thirst had gone they had to find something to talk about, so started with birthdays and families. Then they got on to hobbies, and Pansy was struggling to find something she could tell him without breaking the Statute of Secrecy. She kept it fairly generic, that she liked reading and playing chess.

'What about music?' he asked, and she said she wasn't that interested.

'How comes you were living in Scotland? You don't sound Scottish.'

'I was at school there.'

'Oh, right. So, was it like a boarding school, yeah? Mixed?'

'Yes.'

'Impressive. You didn't meet any eligible bachelors with a country mansion, then?' He laughed.

'No. No, I didn't. It was all a bit sheltered. I've not really done anything you'd find interesting. What about you?'

Mike talked about his life; school, and holidays and his time at University where he was studying English. 'All quite boring.'

Yes, Pansy thought to herself. She envied him his normality in a world that didn't seem to be ruled by hatred. He'd never seen children tortured, never feared for his life.

'Penny for 'em?

'Sorry?'

'I was wondering what you were thinking.'

'Not much. Just how peaceful everything is.' She looked around her. In the lowering light of a summer's evening it was peaceful. A distant church clock struck ten and Pansy thought she had better get back. She stood, and he stood with her. 'I should go home.'

'It's early yet.'

'I know, but I should.'

'I'll see you back.'

'That's alright. I'll get a bus.'

Mike walked her to the bus stop by the station and waited with her until the bus came.

'Thank you, I've enjoyed tonight.'

'So have I,' he replied. 'Shall we do it again?'

'I'd like that. Tomorrow?'

He laughed. 'Suits me. This time we'll go for something to eat and I'll take you to the pictures.'

Pansy thought that might mean going to an art gallery, or something. 'I'll look forward to it. Goodnight.'

She was thoughtful on the bus home. Should she be doing this? Pansy was getting herself deeper and deeper into a world she knew nothing about. How long could she keep her secret, and what would happen if she revealed herself? It made a release, anyway; something different to the – literal – trials and tribulations in her real life.

Her parents were still up when she got home, and they heard her coming in.

'Pansy?' she heard her father call out. 'Can you come in here?'

She went into the sitting room. 'Hello!' Her parents were not smiling a greeting to her.

'I had an interesting conversation tonight,' her father said.

'Really? Was it about Narcissa's things? Have you found a buyer?'

'I wasn't talking to a buyer. I was talking to Narcissa.'


	11. Chapter 11

Pansy dropped into a chair. 'Oh. How is she?' she asked, with more bravado than she felt, knowing she'd been caught out.

'I thought you might know,' said her father, 'seeing as you were there.' Pansy folded her arms across her chest and shrugged, saying nothing. 'Where were you?'

'Just out.'

'What's his name?' Pansy looked up in surprise. 'Come on, I wasn't born yesterday. Going out "for walks", new clothes; and don't even pretend you've had them for ages. You had no luggage when you came home and you certainly didn't buy a skirt like that in Diagon Alley. What's his name?'

'Mike.'

'A muggle, I take it.'

'Yes.' Pansy raised her chin. 'Yes, he's a muggle.'

'We don't mix with muggles.'

'Why? Because they're not good enough for us? Because our blood is so superior to theirs? Where's it got me, being a good pureblood girl? I'll tell you where; discarded, attacked and arrested. Draco will probably spend the rest of his life in prison, I'm treated like scum in the street and I've had to see and do things you can't even imagine. I don't have any friends because I went to their funerals. Remember? Why shouldn't I meet people and enjoy myself, even if they are muggles?'

Her father didn't raise his voice in return, as she almost expected him too. Instead he studied his hands. 'Does he know?' he asked, quietly. He looked at his daughter. 'Does he know you're a witch?'

'No.'

'Are you going to tell him?'

Pansy's anger evaporated, to be replaced with a tone of hopelessness. 'I don't know.'

'As you've found tonight, and you'll find with this boy, lying isn't any basis for a relationship. Petal, we keep apart from them because they don't understand us, and what they don't understand they fear. That's why we have our own society, so we can live our lives our way.'

Pansy wiped her eyes. 'He's different, I know he is.'

'You don't know, and you won't until you tell him. What if he turns away from you, when he finds out?'

'He won't. He's fun and he's taking me to the pictures.'

'What's that?'

'An art gallery, I think,' Pansy replied, doubtfully.

Her father laughed, sadly. 'No, it isn't. You see? You don't know any more about his world than he knows about yours. How long do you think you can keep up the pretence?'

'I'm learning. I already know about money, and how to get on a bus.'

'It isn't enough. You'll end up hurt.'

Pansy shook her head in despair. 'I'm hurt already, so what difference will that make? I'm going to bed and tomorrow I'll find out what the pictures are.'

-o0o-

Going to the pictures had nothing to do with an art gallery, Pansy discovered the next night. It was like the box-with-a-window that Pansy had seen in the shops, but this one was huge; it filled a whole wall. Mike had been a bit dubious about going, at first, and had suggested a meal instead.

'Why? Why can't we go to see the pictures?' she asked.

'There's not much on at the moment, apart from "Godzilla".'

'Who's that?' she asked.

Mike gave a snort. 'It's about a giant lizard that attacks New York. It sounds pretty rubbish, to be honest.'

'I don't mind; I want to see the pictures. Come on!'

Pansy sat, open mouthed, as the story unfolded. Where had they found an animal that big? She was sure she would have heard about it, even in her world. It was as big as a dinosaur, and she knew they were extinct. She didn't really have a clue what was going on, apart from that. The pictures mostly involved people using blasting spells of different kinds against the dinosaur, or getting killed by it and its babies. She worked out that part was probably just acting, and was impressed by how well the animals had been trained.

There was also a sub-plot about a girl lying to her ex-boyfriend, which Pansy found a bit uncomfortable to watch, but it all worked out in the end.

Afterwards they went to the pub to have a drink, and Mike smiled ruefully at her. 'Sorry! It wasn't very good, was it?'

Pansy shrugged. 'It was different.'

'As far fetched as eggs from Australia! I mean, that bit where the helicopters were being chased; why did they carry on flying through the streets instead of just going up? They're helicopters!' He laughed at the ridiculousness of the plot.

'They're what?'

'Helicopters. You remember? Godzilla chased them.'

'Oh, them. We'd better go, my bus will be here soon.'

'I'll walk you home, if you want.'

'There's no need.'

'I don't even know where you live. I don't know much about you at all.'

Pansy tried to laugh it off. 'You know I like cappuccino.'

They had to cross a road before they got to the bus stop, and Mike took her hand in his. Pansy froze and he let go. 'Sorry. Got a bit ahead of myself.'

'No, it just took me by surprise, that's all. You can have it back, if you want.'

Mike took her hand and gave it a squeeze. Pansy felt a number of emotions as he did so, relating to both him and Draco. Was she cheating and, if so, on whom? Draco wasn't here, and Mike was, but that shouldn't make a difference. She'd never written back to Draco, after his letter. If proper etiquette were to be observed she should acknowledge him releasing her, but she hadn't done that. Since the war, all the old decencies seemed to have gone to pot; Narcissa would never have been seen drunk in front of a visitor in the old days.

'Pansy, I'm not going to be around for a few days. I've got some time off so I'm going to see my parents. I'm back on the 9th, do you want to meet up?'

The 9th was the day before she had to accompany Narcissa to Azkaban. She supposed she should really be there the night before, to provide what comfort she could. 'Yes, I'd like that. I'll have to leave early, though; I've got something on that evening.'

'I'll be home in the morning. We could meet at twelve and spend the day together. Maybe go for a picnic?'

'A picnic? Why not? I'll make some food for us, if you want.'

'I can cook too! We'll both make something and see who's the best.'

It was agreed that was a good plan, and they waited together until her bus arrived. Pansy put her hands on Mike's shoulders. 'I enjoyed this evening. Thank you.' She stretched up to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Mike watched the bus drive off, with Pansy waving to him through the window. 'Everybody's heard of helicopters. You'd have to live on the moon, not Scotland.'

-o0o-

Mike's departure left Pansy at a loose end, which she filled by helping her father. It made a change for her to be out of the house working all day, and he said nothing more to her about her relationship. It was obvious he didn't approve but she was of age and, he accepted, deserved something after all she had been through. Forcing the issue would simply push her further into this boy's arms so he agreed with his wife that they only thing that they could do was be there to pick up the pieces, if it went wrong.

Pansy enjoyed working. It showed her parents, she thought, that she could knuckle down and take responsibility; she wasn't a child any more.

In the middle of preparing orders and stacking shelves with new deliveries she was asked by her father to join him one day when he met his French supplier, who was making his visit.

M. Reynard was very French, very small and very affable. He obviously enjoyed the good things in life and he knew about antiques. He was mainly a supplier of perfumes and potion items but could also obtain very good quality lace, which Cecil Parkinson used in some of his home furnishing lines. He had other contacts and he might be able to help move some of Narcissa's items. He perused the list with interest.

'You have some very good items here. This is quality, but I think the seller may be a problem, in France.'

'How do you mean?'

'Unfortunately, the name Malfoy is known. He was one of your Death Eaters, am I correct?'

'I believe he may have...been ...associated...'

'Ah, I think he was. One hears stories, non? M. Delacour, a friend of mine, you know of him?, was not treated well on his last visit to England, and he has spoken to many people of these things. Of course, there will still be those who are interested, and I can give you names, but they will only buy if the price is correct.'

'I will not forget you, if I make any sales,' replied Cecil. He knew how these things worked.

Reynard spread his hands. 'I know you are an honourable man, so I will give you some free marketing advice. Have you considered looking west for customers?'

'West?'

'To America. It is a rich country and they are interested in what they consider to be antiques.' He looked back at the list. 'I think these could sell and, perhaps, the name will not be so much of a problem for you.'

'I have no contacts out there.'

'I can make an introduction for you. Now, ' he glanced at his watch, 'I must go. I have to meet with somebody else and then return to Paris this evening.'

Hands were shaken all around and M. Reynard took his leave. Pansy and her father sat down again.

'America, eh?' I'd not thought of that,' he said.

'No,' said Pansy. 'Is it a long way away?'

'Yes,' replied her father. 'I think you have to take several portkeys to get there. Still, it might be worth investigating.'

'Are we allowed to sell to them? It won't get us in to trouble, will it?'

'I don't know, but I think we should be above board.' He looked at his daughter. 'It may be a lot to ask, but do you want to check it out?'

'How?'

'Go to the Ministry and find out?' He could see the hesitation on his daughter's face. 'I know it might be difficult for you, but you can't hide away for ever.'

It was the last thing Pansy wanted to do. Her previous meeting with the Ministry had not been pleasant, and she still wasn't sure what plans they had for her. She'd heard absolutely nothing from them, but perhaps they were getting the important trials out of the way first. Her stomach lurched at the thought of being charged with something, maybe in several month's time, when she'd forgotten all about it.

'What if they won't talk to me?'

Cecil gave her a smile. 'I'll stop paying my taxes; they'll want to talk to us then! We pay their wages, never forget that they work for us.'

'I'll see what I can do.'


	12. Chapter 12

Nobody paid Pansy any notice as she made her way to the reception desk in the Atrium; they were too busy concentrating on their own jobs to worry about yet another visitor. Even the security man was pleasant, to start with.

'Good morning, Miss. Can I help you?'

'Yes, please. I'd like to talk to somebody about exporting things, and what permissions I might need.'

'Ah,' he said. 'You'll be needing somebody in International Co-operation. I'll send a message to them; somebody will come up. May I have your wand please, Miss?' Pansy handed it over and the man picked up a quill to fill out the receipt. 'And the name is...?

'Parkinson. Pansy Parkinson.'

The man's face hardened and he scribbled her name on the parchment, which was thrust at her. 'Sit down.'

Pansy sat, for twenty minutes. She hadn't been told how long it would take, and she didn't want to ask. She tried to get interested in The Daily Prophet, but it was three weeks old and still full of stories about the war,

Eventually she saw somebody approach the desk, and the guard jabbed a finger in her direction. For her benefit he raised his voice. 'Shall I call some aurors?' The newcomer shook his head and approached her. He had ginger hair, and Pansy thought he looked vaguely familiar. She stood and offered her hand, but it was not taken.

'Miss Parkinson? Come with me, please.' She followed him to the lifts and they went down to the fifth floor. Once there they went to a small, bare office containing four chairs, a desk and some filing cabinets. It was indicated she should sit on one of the chairs, the man taking another. He picked up a quill.

'My name is Percy Weasley, Junior Undersecretary for International Trade. How can I help you?'

His tone was brisk, efficient and officious. Percy Weasley. Pansy remembered him. He'd been Head Boy at some time, and a Gryffindor. At least his feelings towards her were clear; it was obvious he knew who she was, although the Civil Service veneer never slipped. Or maybe he was like this with everybody.

'I want to know what permits I need to sell things abroad.'

'What sort of things?'

'Antiques.'

'Magical?'

'No, would that be different? These are things like jewellery, goblets and plate.'

'There are no problems with those items, as long as they're not Goblin made,' Weasley answered. 'We are having a few issues with the Goblins at the moment. Magical items are different; it would depend what they are so you would be advised to seek permission for each one. Certain things,' he looked at her over his glasses, 'certain things are banned completely.'

'Like what?'

'Anything associated with Dark Magic, or certain persons. I'm sure I don't need to spell out which certain person I'm talking about.'

'What if I needed to go abroad as well, maybe to talk to somebody? Can I go?'

Weasley looked slightly shaken. He'd been asked a question he couldn't answer. 'Umm...there are no restrictions on...why do you ask?'

Pansy decided to come clean; it was easier. 'I was told not to leave the country without permission.'

'When were you told that?'

'After...you know.'

'What have you been charged with?'

'Nothing.'

'Nothing?'

'No.'

He stood. 'Please wait here. I shall not be long.' He returned shortly with another man, who was as small and drab as the room they sat in. He sat down, placing a brown folder on the table.

'Miss Parkinson has asked me if she is allowed to travel,' Weasley said to him. 'Is there any reason why she should not?'

The man, who had not been introduced, flicked through the folder several times. Eventually he looked up. 'There's no reason that I can see. Park...Miss Parkinson is not charged with any offences.'

'I'm not?' Pansy didn't quite know what to feel. 'Nothing, are you sure?'

The man looked back to the file and shrugged. 'It was recommended no charges be brought against you and the file is now officially closed. Were you not informed?'

'No. Nobody said anything.'

'Ah well,' said the man, 'these things happen.' He looked at Weasley. 'If you'll excuse me, things to do. Lots of files to file.'

Weasley escorted Pansy back to the atrium. 'If you have any further questions, please do not hesitate to contact me. I will send an owl confirming our meeting today.'

'Thank you,' said Pansy, and she meant it. 'You've been very helpful, more than I expected.'

Weasley stared off to the middle distance. 'I do my job to the best of my ability.' He looked back to the guard and then to Pansy, his face momentarily softening. 'The past is not a happy place for many of us, Miss Parkinson. Unlike some people I try to spend as little time there as possible. Good day.'

-o0o-

Pansy left the Ministry slightly at a loss for what to do next. She'd expected to be in there all day, and perhaps have to come back, but it had taken just over an hour. She could go home, but that seemed a bit of a waste. She was in London and thought she should take advantage; it was much less scary than the last time she had been here, because she knew how to get home.

She decided to avoid Diagon Alley completely and it was fun walking around the muggle shops and looking; there were far more than in her home town and she enjoyed the anonymity. She started to search for something to wear when she went out with Mike on Sunday, as he'd already seen her jeans and skirt. She almost laughed out loud when she realised what she had just thought. Here she was, Pansy Parkinson, former Hogwarts Head Girl and Slytherin Prefect, looking for muggle clothes that would impress her muggle boyfriend! That wiped the smile from her face, but she wasn't sure which word caused her the biggest problem. "Muggle" or "Boyfriend"? The clothes could wait; she needed coffee.

Sat at the table, with a large cappuccino, Pansy decided to approach the topic logically, one step at a time.

Muggle. She knew her father was right, in one respect. Pansy would have problems passing for a one of them without a lot more education, but for that she would need Mike's help and that would mean telling him what she was. She wasn't worried about the Statute of Secrecy, that much, which must have an exception in it or there would be no half-bloods. That meant, by extension, that some muggles didn't have a problem being married to a witch or wizard. Mike wasn't some muggle, though, he was just one muggle and Pansy didn't know how he would react. Perhaps she should tell him and, if it went badly, she could try obliviating him, except she wasn't sure how to. It would mean never seeing him again, and that left an empty feeling in her stomach. Or, she may be worrying about nothing, and that was the next problem.

Boyfriend. They'd been out twice and he'd invited her out again, so he didn't think she was a troll. They'd held hands, not much but it was a start. Pansy was a little uncertain of the next stage. It had been different with Draco, because they'd known each other for a long time. The future was unspoken, but defined, so things had just happened naturally. They had taken the final step on his seventeenth birthday, once his party had ended. It was her real present to him and had been rather fun. Should she set the pace with Mike, or wait for him? On the other hand, he was only one boy, and a glance into the street showed her there were plenty of others. Perhaps she was getting ahead of herself and she should just wait and see how things went. Maybe he would be a short-lived romance, for any number of reasons.

Or she wouldn't have to pretend to be a muggle anyway, if she stayed with Draco. That was another issue she still hadn't finally resolved, although she had a way forward if she wanted it. It was an option she shouldn't overlook, though. Forget this mad adventure and go back to where she had been, where she perhaps belonged. She could wait for him to serve his sentence, whilst maintaining as much of the property as she could, and then settle down to be the good pureblood wife and mother she had always planned to be. It would be, most likely, in straightened circumstances but she would be in her own culture.

Pansy ran her finger around the cup, scooping up the last of the foamed milk. So many choices, and she didn't know which one to take. She was young, she realised; only eighteen. Life was by no means clear-cut so perhaps this was the time not to make any decisions at all. Instead, she would see how things turned out. She would keep her date with Mike on Sunday, and try to see Draco when she took Narcissa to Azkaban on Monday. It might help her see her way forward.

She drained her cup and stood, pleased that she had made some sense of it. If she was going to see Mike she needed something to wear, and then she would have to do some shopping and cooking for the picnic. Oh, she would have to tell her father what she had learned at the Ministry as well. She mustn't forget that...

Pansy's journey to find her clothes for Sunday was interrupted by a sudden heavy shower of rain. Eighteen years, she thought, and she still hadn't got in to the habit of carrying an umbrella whenever she went out. It wasn't even as if she could use an _impervius_ charm, surrounded as she was by muggles. She ducked into the nearest shop to get away from the weather.

It was the strangest shop she had ever been in and her hand immediately clasped around her wand, which was in the bottom of her bag. The walls were covered in shelves and on the shelves...Pansy didn't know, but she had the feeling she had some how apparated to Knockturn Alley. There were creatures she thought she should recognise, and instruments of unknown function. Robes hung from racks and there was a sense of dark magic about the place.

She spun round at a voice behind her.

'Hi! Are you looking for anything in particular, or just getting out of the rain – same as most people who come in here?'

The man who approached her did not do much to ease Pansy's apprehension. He looked like a miniature Hagrid, with long, scruffy hair and a beard. His skin, the little she could see, was pale and he was very overweight. He wore faded and ripped jeans and a T-shirt which had a picture of a warrior woman on it whom Pansy thought may have been a Veela, albeit rather inappropriately dressed . Underneath it said "This is my fantasy. What's yours?"

Pansy looked around her again and thought quickly. It was still raining outside. 'I'm looking for a present, for a friend.'

'What sort of thing is he in to?'

'How do you know it's a he?'

The man looked slightly embarrassed. 'They tend to be. What kind of role play does he like?'

Pansy didn't want to pursue that line of thought. She picked up the nearest object, which appeared to be a snake with wings stuck on it. 'What's this?'

The man took it from her, almost reverentially. 'This is a new line, only came in yesterday. Isn't it great?'

'What's it meant to be?'

'This is Smaug! You know, from The Hobbit. Great craftsmanship, look!' He held the model up so she could see the underneath. 'See, there are even some jewels missing from his left breast. That was how Bard the Bowman of Esgaroth managed to kill him with his Black Arrow.'

'But what is a "Smaug"?'

'You don't know Smaug? He's only the greatest of the dragons of his day...according to The Return of the King,Appendix A, section III.'

Pansy took the model from the man. 'This is a dragon? What species is it meant to be?' It didn't look like any dragon Pansy had ever seen.

The man looked both impressed and aghast. 'I don't know. Wow! I'd never even thought of dragons having species! Wait 'til I tell the guys!'

Pansy put the model "dragon" down, thinking it looked rather ridiculous. Then she saw the wands and moved towards them. Wands in a muggle shop? How could that be? She gingerly picked one up but it felt totally wrong; cold and lifeless.

'Ah, yes,' said the man, coming up behind her and making the hairs on her neck stand up. 'These are popular with a lot of gamers.'

'What are they made of?'

'Plastic,' said the man, apologetically, 'they come from China. Shame we can't get hold of proper wooden ones. You know,' he said, thoughtfully, 'I'm surprised nobody's ever seen the niche there.'

Pansy turned the wand over in her hand. It was rather tatty, yet was selling for ten pounds. 'How much would people pay for a proper wooden wand, do you think?' She decided to risk her luck, the man obviously being a muggle. She took her wand from her bag. 'One like this, in a box.'

The man took it, with a look of awe on his face. 'Oh, wow! That is beyond stupendous! Where did you get it?'

'A friend gave it to me. How much is it worth?'

'Would your friend make them for me, with exclusive selling rights?'

'If the price was right.'

'I could sell them for maybe forty pounds. I'd pay twenty.'

'Twenty five, if you want exclusive rights.'

'How many can you get me?'

'I'll have to speak to my friend, but how many do you want?'

'I'll take twenty, to start with. I think these could be huge. They are all different, aren't they?'

'Oh yes, each one's unique.'

'Deal!'

Pansy almost skipped out of the shop in delight. She'd just made Narcissa...mental arithmatic again and she had to think about it...five hundred pounds, a hundred Galleons or so, and there were hundreds of wands in that room.


	13. Chapter 13

Pansy's mother couldn't believe her eyes when she walked in to the kitchen. At least, she assumed it was the kitchen; it was so hard to tell. Bowls, dishes and spoons were scattered around, most surfaces were covered in a fine layer of flour and there were unidentifiable lumps dotting the floor tiles.

'Pansy, dear, what are you doing?'

A rather frenetic Pansy looked up, temporarily ceasing wrestling with the dough in her hands. 'I'm cooking. For tomorrow. I said I'd make things for our picnic.'

Pansy's mother shook her head and decided to stay well out of it. 'How did you ever pass Potions?'

-o0o-

She stood, under the clock outside the railway station, at twelve o'clock as arranged, holding her basket of food. It was a beautiful day, warm and sunny, yet she felt cool and relaxed in her new dress. It was floral and cotton and she thought it looked good on her. She hoped Mike would like it, and then wished she hadn't thought that because it started the butterflies flapping around in her stomach. She saw him walking towards her and waved. He smiled and waved back, adjusting his rucksack on his shoulder.

'Hi!' he said, when he got to her.

'Hello.' Pansy looked down and then gave him a kiss on the cheek. 'You bought some food then?'

'I brought food,' he corrected her. 'I told you; I'm not a bad cook.'

'I made my things as well. I'm pretty good in the kitchen, too.'

'Well, let's go down to the river and we can swap recipes!'

They walked, hand-in-hand, through the town to a park by the river. Mike produced a travel rug from his rucksack which he spread with a flourish and bow. 'My Lady!' he said, smiling at her. Pansy sat, quickly having to adjust her dress which was much shorter than she was used to. She started blushing and hoped Mike hadn't seen.

He looked away until his grin was under control and then sat next to her. 'So,' he said, sniggering, 'anything else to put on display?'

'Stop it!' Pansy hid her face behind her hands. 'That wasn't meant to happen, and you know it. Merlin, I feel so embarrassed!'

'Merlin?'

'What? Nothing. Show me your food.'

Mike laid out his picnic. There were savoury tartlets in various flavours, crudités and dips, coleslaw and hard boiled eggs. He had proper plates and cutlery, and even some napkins. Finally he produced a bottle of white wine and some glasses. 'Et voilà!' he said. 'So, what do you have?'

Pansy opened her basket, which seemed a little drab by comparison; pumpkin pasties, Cornish pasties, sandwiches and cauldron cakes. Some of the pastry around the pasties had crumbled a bit. 'Fine,' she said, reaching for a tartlet and popping it in her mouth, 'you win.'

'No, yours looks...really nice,' Mike said, biting in to a pasty. 'What is it?'

'It's a pumpkin pasty. We used to eat them on the way to school.'

'You left this year, didn't you? How did the exams go?'

Pansy struggled for an answer. 'We've not had the results yet.'

'I thought they came out a couple of weeks ago?'

'We took different exams.'

'Oh, like the International Baccalaureate? Are you going to University?'

'Probably not. My dad's got a business, so I think I'll join that. Tell me about yourself, what you do.'

She encouraged Mike to talk as much as possible, deciding that she could learn about his world by listening to him. He said he liked watching television, and she eventually worked out that must be the proper name for the box-with-a-window she'd seen in the shop. It was another piece of information she could store. She was able to get away with her ignorance on the subject of popular shows by saying that they weren't allowed to watch at school, and her parents didn't have one at home.

He also told her that he played Rugby for his Uni, and she got him to describe the game. It sounded a little like Quidditch, except that there were more players and fewer balls – and no broomsticks, obviously. No, they hadn't played it at her school, which had a more academic base, and her parents weren't really interested in sport in general.

It was when they got on to books that Pansy found herself backed into a corner. She tried giving general answers, but it was soon apparent to both of them that she was struggling. Mike named his favourite writer, a best seller who was popular with everybody. Pansy, rather stupidly, said 'Ah, him!' Mike asked her straight to name any one of his works and she couldn't.

The panic rose in her chest and she looked frantically at her watch. 'I have to go; I'm visiting a friend tonight.'

She reached out to start collecting her things together and Mike put his hand on hers. 'Tell me.'

'Tell you what?'

His voice was very gentle. 'Who you are. What you are.'

'I don't know what you mean. I'm a person, a girl, of course I am. What else could I be?'

Mike let go of her hand and sat up, looking off across the park. 'I don't want to pry, or force you to tell me anything you don't want to, but I know your life and mine, until now, have been very different, and I can't work out why.'

'I told you. I went to...'

'Please, Pansy, don't. There's something in your life, I don't know what it is, that you can't tell me about. That's fine, I accept that, but say nothing rather than lie to me.' He turned back to her, taking her hand again. 'There is one thing I want you to know, though. I'm here, and I'll still be here when you're ready to tell me. No pressure, no time limits. I'll be here.'

Pansy threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. 'Thank you.'

Mike hugged her back, stroking her hair and saying nothing because there was nothing he could say. She was intelligent, but separated from him by something. He wondered if she'd been brought up in some weird religious sect, which would explain why she knew nothing of the world. He would have to wait for her, but he'd do that. As soon as she hugged him he'd fallen completely in love with her.

They walked back to the train station with their arms around each other, Pansy wanting to admit her feelings for him and tell him about herself, but she couldn't, not yet. There were too many things in her life she needed to sort out and she wouldn't commit herself to Mike until she could do so absolutely.

-o0o-

Narcissa was standing on the terrace, with a drink in her hand, when Pansy arrived.

'I'd thought we'd eat out here tonight. I might as well enjoy it whilst I still can. I've always loved this garden.'

Pansy hugged her. 'You'll see it again, Narcissa, I know you will.'

'One day, perhaps, when it is an overgrown ruin. I shall have to start again from scratch.' She stood back and looked at Pansy. 'I hope you're not intending to accompany me to Azkaban dressed like that. What is it?'

'It's my new dress. Don't you like it?'

'It makes you look like a muggle. You don't go out wearing it, do you?'

'Yes I do! Lots of girls my age are dressed like this. It helps me blend in.' She saw Narcissa's questioning look. 'Diagon Alley is so unfriendly these days that I prefer not to go there. I do all the shopping in muggle places now, so I wear the same clothes as they do.'

'Oh, you poor dear. Is it very awful?'

'No, not at all.'

'But how do you cope with their smell? Aren't you scared you'll be attacked?'

'It isn't like that, Narcissa, that's one thing I have learnt; they're just like us.' Narcissa looked doubtful, the weight of her upbringing being too much to change on the word of a girl. 'But today isn't about me. What do you want to do?

Narcissa turned back to the garden. 'I want to spend a last evening thinking about as little as possible. I've told Dinky to make us the best dinner she's ever made, and raid the wine cellar. I shall go down fighting!'

'You do that! Oh, Narcissa, aren't you scared?'

Narcissa gave Pansy a hug. 'Yes, I am, but it will make no difference. I am so glad you agreed to be here for me.'

'I said I wouldn't desert you, and I meant it. We've made some progress with your things but I've had another idea as well. Can I sell your wands?'

'To whom? I know Ollivander is still not working, but who would want an old wand?'

Pansy took a deep breath. 'Muggles do. Yes, I know! They have a sort of folk memory of us, it seems, and dragons even. They play games where they pretend to be wizards and want a wand, even though they can't actually use it. They can sell for a lot of money.'

Narcissa shook her head in disbelief. 'What strange creatures they are!' She shrugged. 'We are in desperate times,and those wands are doing us no good sat in that room. If, as I have heard said, a fool and his money are soon parted, then it may as well come to us. Yes, you can sell them my dear.'

'Thank you. I think I'll try to make sure they can't be used though, just in case.'

They spent the evening quietly, Narcissa seemingly content that she wasn't on her own. Pansy found it difficult to talk about any plans she might have for the future, and decided not to mention Mike at all.

Shortly before Dinky served dinner, Narcissa took Pansy in to the house to show her where the letter for Andromeda had been placed.

'All you need to do is contact her and arrange to meet her here and show her where the letter is. Please do not try to open it yourself, I have put certain protections around it.'

'But what if she won't come?'

'She will. Even though she made some unfortunate decisions in her life she has Black blood in her veins and that gives her no choice in the matter. You must be inside the wards when she sets them, as that is the only way you will be able to cross them afterwards. I have explained that to her. Make sure nobody else is here.'

'Could I bring somebody with me, later, if I need to come in?' Pansy didn't relish the thought of ever entering the house on her own.

'Only if you become the rightful owner, I'm afraid. It isn't that I don't trust you, of course, but anyone other than yourself will be rejected, which would be dangerous for them. Should you become the rightful owner then the wards would lapse, as I told you before. I have to secure the house for Draco, although...although...'

'Narcissa?'

Narcissa let her mask fall. 'He's bad, Pansy. I'm scared for him. His last letter...something has happened to him but I don't know what. He was rambling and talking about things...he wants to come home for Christmas. He thinks he's back at Hogwarts and he can't understand why they won't let him go to lessons. He wants me to write to Dumbledore.'

'No!'

'His mind has gone and I don't know what to do for him. How can I be a mother if I can't help my own son?'

Pansy hugged her. 'We can do nothing tonight, but I will see him tomorrow and find out what's going on. Maybe they'll let you see him as well. They must have Healers looking after him. We will deal with it tomorrow but tonight we must look after you.'

Dinner was, even under the circumstances, a special event. Dinky had surpassed herself and each course was accompanied by perfectly chosen wines, mostly Elvish and very old. Pansy kept the conversation going by talking about her father's business and the price of things in the muggle world. Narcissa, as host, did her utmost to sound interested in everything.

She told Pansy about her life as a child, especially during the Autumn Season when they would stay in their London residence and go to wonderful parties and balls in the run up to Christmas.

Pansy had only seen a shadow of that world as she grew up, and knew it would never return again. Maybe, she thought, what the war had truly represented was the Last Hurrah of the world Narcissa had been born in to, a world that had been largely destroyed following Voldemort's first defeat and had been declining ever since. Perhaps that is why he had been able to gather his followers to him on his return; they had nothing to lose in defeat that they were not going to lose in time anyway so they might as well, like Narcissa tonight, go down fighting.

They sat with glasses of Goblin brandy, watching an almost full moon rising into the steadily darkening sky. It was peaceful in the garden, with no wind to stir the plants. Everything was still. Pansy felt as if the whole of the Malfoy Manor grounds had fallen silent out of respect.

'Well,' said Narcissa, eventually 'that's that. I could sit here all night but tomorrow will still come, so I shall have a decent night's sleep in my own bed.'

'Is there anything I can do?'

'Just be here in the morning. You don't mind if I take the decanter up with me, do you?'

'No.'

Pansy sat on her own for a while, looking around. Might this house, one day, be hers? It could be in her own right, but she didn't want that because it would mean that Draco was dead and she had seen too many deaths. It might be as Draco's wife, but could that even be possible if what Narcissa had said was true? It would also mean giving up Mike,

Pansy reconciled herself to the fact that it was unlikely she would ever be the real chatelaine of Malfoy Manor, and took that thought to bed with her.


	14. Chapter 14

Narcissa awoke early the next morning, with a sense of dread. It was like the feeling she used to have at Christmas, before she sneaked downstairs to see if she'd been good. There was always that fear she would find only two piles of presents, with nothing for her, only this time there would be no chance of relief when she opened the door.

She almost wept at the sense of frustration she felt. These fools were going to destroy the only people who could save wizardkind from destroying itself. One day they would realise what they had done, polluting the stock by allowing inferior breeds to come in and take over. When it was too late they would turn to the true guardians, the purebloods, to save them and there would be nobody left.

She went out in to the garden, savouring the cool, fresh air and standing with her face to the sun. She wondered if she would ever feel it again. Everything was so still, so quiet. She resisted the temptation to remove the faded flowers from the plants in the borders; let them grow their seeds to provide the future generations she would never see.

Everything around her was so familiar, because this garden had been her creation. Lucius's mother had been fond of a very formal style, all gravel paths and box hedges. Narcissa had started from scratch, with sweeping borders and explosions of plants. She had created hidden corners and used hedges to create sudden vistas. She had spent years creating it and today she would leave, forever.

She walked slowly back to the house, where Dinky was waiting for her with a cup of tea and tears in her eyes.

'Mistress, what is to become of us?'

Narcissa took the tea from her. 'I have to go away. You know that, don't you? I have instructed my sister to take care of you all. She will find you other houses to go to.'

Dinky threw herself forward, clutching at Narcissa's leg. 'Please, Mistress, please can Dinky stay here? Dinky is born in this house.'

'You will be very lonely.'

'Can one other elf stay? We can look after the house until you come back and we can look after Mistress Pansy when she comes here.'

'How do you know about...House Elves! Yes, you can find one other, but only if they want to stay with you.'

'Thank you, Mistress. Shall Dinky awaken Mistress Pansy and prepare breakfast?'

'Yes. Thank you, Dinky, you have always been a good Elf.'

'Dinky is not like Dobby. Dinky is ashamed to say we is related.'

Breakfast was served in the dining room and Dinky had spared no effort. The finest plates and cutlery had been polished up and set out, and the golden serving dishes had been brought from the strongroom.

'All of this can go, as well,' Narcissa said, once Dinky was out of earshot. 'I shall not be needing it again.' She looked back at the door, to check it was shut. 'I'm afraid you've adopted Dinky, but she will look after you.'

'I know,' said Pansy. 'I don't mind; she's been slipping me biscuits and chocolate since I was eight!'

They ate in silence for a while and eventually Pansy had to speak.

'Oh, Narcissa! What's going to happen today?'

'Ah, the manticore in the room. We shall be travelling by portkey, which will activate at eleven o'clock precisely.'

'What if you don't take it?'

'I do not think I have an option. I imagine the house would be surrounded by aurors, who will probably trample on the flowerbeds and make a mess of the lawns, within five minutes.'

'How can you joke about such things?'

Narcissa shrugged. 'I can either laugh or cry, and they will not see me cry. I am feeling surprisingly calm and relaxed about the whole situation. I wonder if Dinky put something in my tea this morning? You didn't give her any ideas, did you?'

'No! I promise.'

'Not that I care much either way. After breakfast I shall dress and prepare myself and then we shall go. I must remember to show you how to get into the wand room, as well. Are you really going to sell them to muggles? How funny.'

'It is strange the things they like. I'm sure there are others things I can sell, as well; maybe old quills or cauldrons. Perhaps I can get hold of a pensieve. They don't have to work, just as long as they look genuine – or what muggles would think of as genuine. They don't really know.'

Narcissa put her hand on Pansy's and gave her a sad smile. 'I'm pleased for you, Pansy, I want you to know that. You seem to be coping with this new world far better than I. You can see a future in it, which I cannot. Perhaps it is right that I should be locked away as a museum piece.'

'You can change, Narcissa.'

'Maybe I don't want to, have you thought of that?' She stood and started walking around the room, touching things. 'I have to believe in what I believe in, or I have nothing, and I believe I am right. If we do not maintain our world, our society, then it will disappear forever and magic will be lost. One day it will be needed. I don't know how, or when, but I believe we are here for a purpose.'

Pansy came to stand by her. 'But why does that mean we should reject people? I thought about that once, you know, when I didn't have a wand. I realised that any muggleborn could do things with a wand that I couldn't do without one. Why should the purity of my blood make any difference?'

'Because it is pure, and pure must be better. Would you rather drink pure water, or that from a ditch?'

'Pure water, obviously, but I don't think that's the same at all.'

Narcissa moved towards the door. 'Perhaps you are right.' Then she stopped and turned back, with a coquettish look on her face. 'Are you going to tell me about your young man? I hope he's young, anyway.'

'What young man?'

'This young man who has obviously captured your heart.'

Pansy blushed, furiously. 'No, there isn't..I mean...I...'

'Come, my dear! Does he have a name?'

Pansy looked down. 'Mike.'

'Are you in love with him?'

'I don't know. I can't be, at the moment.'

'Because of Draco'

'Yes, amongst other things.'

'Forget Draco and fall in love with this boy. I think he may be your best hope for the future. I'm going to dress.'

-o0o-

They stood before the portkey, which was a vase. Narcissa wore a simple dress and travel cloak, with no jewellery at all. She was starting to shake, just slightly.

Pansy held her hand. 'When it glows I shall count to three, and we will touch it together.'

'Thank you, Pansy. I couldn't do it on my own, I know it.'

'I will stay with you for as long as possible and I will be at the trial tomorrow. Look for me.' The portkey started glowing. 'Now, one, two, three...'

They landed on a flat piece of rock outside the prison, which rose grey and stark above them. The only noises were the swell of waves breaking on the rocks and the harsh cries of the gulls, sounding accusingly through the air. Azkaban, as usual, was shrouded in fog; it was a place that did not need dementors to suck the soul from your body.

'Merlin, what an awful place,' cried Pansy. 'How inhuman! Surely they can't keep people here?'

'They do. I have only visited before, and that was bad enough. You see what I meant when I said they do not need a death sentence to kill people? I must see Draco. Come, let us go.'

Hand-in-hand they approached the door. Narcissa steeled herself before knocking and a peep hole opened. 'Narcissa Malfoy. I believe I am expected?'

The door opened and they stepped through into a vestibule that was as grey as the rest of the building, and cold. Two guards approached and demanded Narcissa hand over her wand, which she did. They told her to follow them and she hugged Pansy tightly.

'Remember who you are, Narcissa,' Pansy whispered into her ear.

Narcissa was led further in to the building and put in a cell. It had bare stone walls and contained a wooden bench and thin mattress, taking up the whole length of the wall, which was both a seat and her bed. On it were two blankets; grey, obviously. In one corner was a stone slab holding a wash basin and ewer of water. In the other corner was a bucket, with a lid. That was it. The only light source was a barred window. In winter the cell would be dark for sixteen hours a day.

As a remand prisoner she was allowed to keep her own clothing, and the medical was an interview with a healer rather than an examination. It was all over in a matter of minutes, after which a guard brought her some food served on a wooden plate. The food was as grey as the walls surrounding her.

'Will I be allowed to see my husband and son?' she asked him.

'This is a prison, not one of your grand parties,' he said, walking out and slamming the cell door shut.

Narcissa ate a little of the food before discarding it. She lay on the bed and, pulling her cloak around her, turned to face the wall.

-o0o-

Pansy watched Narcissa being led away. She didn't look back but her head was held high.

Pansy wanted to see Draco, to confirm what Narcissa had told her last night. She'd not seen the letter, so perhaps Narcissa had misread it, or overreacted due to her own situation. However, she didn't know how much time she had available, so approached the doorkeeper.

'What time is the next portkey, please?' She hoped there was one.

He checked his watch. 'They leave every hour, on the hour, from three until six, in that room there.' He nodded to indicate where she should go.

Almost four hours, which which was probably more time than she needed. 'Could I apparate, if I wanted to?'

The guard shrugged. 'Depends how good you are. It's a bit of a swim if you get it wrong.'

'I'd like to see somebody.'

'Won't change the portkey times.'

'No, I mean could I visit somebody being held here? He's on remand.'

'You got an appointment?'

'No.'

'Who?'

'Draco Malfoy.'

The guard gave a huge sigh. So much for a quiet day at work to catch up on the Quidditch results. 'Take a seat in that room over there. What's your name?'

'Pansy Parkinson.'

'Oh. You. Wait in there.'

Half-an-hour later he put his head round the door. 'Hand over your wand and come with me.' She was led to another small room which contained a table and a couple of chairs. 'Sit there and keep your hands in sight on the table top.'

Pansy did as she was told. A few minutes later the door opposite her was opened and Draco, his hands manacled, was led in by a guard. Pansy could only stare at him, at first. He'd lost weight since the last time she'd seen him; not just lost weight but he seemed shrunken. His skin was a deathly pale and his hair was much longer, having not been cut for months.

She could smell him, as well. It wasn't the stench of an unwashed body, but the cold smell of stonework and sunless rooms. He smelt like the cellar she had been held in after the battle. Then there were his eyes; eyes that looked but did not truly see. They were dead eyes. He was led to the chair and told to sit, which he did. The guard retired to the end of the room so that he could see them both, but not listen in too obviously.

'Hello, Draco. I've come to see you.'

'I've not had a visitor before.' His voice was quiet and rasping, as if he were unused to talking. Like his eyes it was dead, lacking any kind of emotion.

Pansy struggled for something to say. She couldn't think of anything. 'How are you?'

'I'm not ill, but my father is.'

'Have the Healers been to see him?'

'Yes.'

'What did they say?'

'They said he's ill. I'm going to my trial tomorrow.'

'I know. I'll be there.'

Draco nodded, almost imperceptibly. 'Will I have to come back here, afterwards? I think I should, so I can look after my father. He's ill, you see.'

'I don't know what will happen tomorrow. Has anyone spoken to you about what will happen?'

'They said I would have to go to London and tell people what I did.'

Pansy dropped her voice to a whisper. 'Listen to me, Draco. You must tell the people tomorrow, in London, that you were forced to do all those things. Tell them that if you did not obey you were tortured, do you understand? Say you were a hostage and you were forced to do things.'

Draco nodded. 'Do you know where my mother is? I miss her.'

'You will see her tomorrow.'

'It's my trial tomorrow, in London. I have to tell them I was a hostage and forced to do things.'

'Yes.'

'What things?'

'Bad things you didn't want to do.'

'I hope I will not be in London for long. My father is ill, the Healers said so.'

Pansy could not stay in the room much longer. 'I have to go. I will see you again tomorrow, Draco.'

'Thank you. You are very kind to come and see me. Do you know somebody called Pansy? I think she was a friend of mine, once. Will she be at the trial? It's my trial tomorrow, in London, and I have to tell them that I was a hostage and had to do bad things I didn't want to do.'

Pansy fought to maintain her composure; Draco didn't even recognise her. What had they done to him? 'I have to go now.'

She fled back to the entrance and stood outside, staring at the sea and the fog. The air was cold and wet in her lungs but it smelt of outdoors and freedom. She wanted Mike to hold her and stroke her hair even more than she wanted to cuddle Simon.


	15. Chapter 15

The hours had dragged past for Pansy whilst she waited for her portkey. There was nothing to do, and nowhere she could get any food. The gatekeeper had given her a cup of tea, more for the sake of having somebody to talk to than anything else as there were no further visitors that day. She'd been allowed to floo home from the Ministry, once she got there, and went straight to her room.

She wanted to see Mike, to see somebody who had a normal life, but knew she couldn't talk to him about her problems without explaining everything else to him and she didn't have the strength to do that today.

She would have to wait until after the trial, when everything was decided. Perhaps she would be allowed to speak at it, to show how bad Draco was. She knew he couldn't be locked up in that place for much longer without losing his mind completely. To cage him in his current state was not the act of a civilised society, yet he was considered the wrongdoer. Was this how the new order were going to run their society? If it was then perhaps she was better off out of it completely.

She awoke the next morning still determined to do something for the Malfoys. Despite her father's objections she would go to the trial and speak on their behalf.

Her floo to the Ministry got diverted to Diagon Alley and she found herself in a scrum once she eventually arrived in the atrium. Death Eater trials were proving to be very popular with the public and it appeared everybody wanted to see the Malfoys disgraced. That Harry Potter would be appearing as the star witness only added to the attraction. Pansy was at a loss for how to get a seat, until she saw Rita Skeeter.

'I need you to get me in.'

Rita looked down her nose. 'Why should I do you a favour? Not exactly influential any more, are you?'

'You owe me.' Rita's eyebrows raised. 'I gave you a story, once.'

Rita threw back her head and laughed. 'Yes, I remember, about Hermione bloody Granger and I was stupid enough to publish it. That was a real career move, you little bitch.'

'I hate her more than you do.'

Rita thought for a moment, and then smiled. 'I doubt it, but you've found my weak spot. Hold my pad and follow me. If anyone asks, you're my personal assistant.'

-o0o-

Narcissa was already awake when they brought her breakfast in the morning. Once she had eaten she was handcuffed and taken to the portkey room. Two guards accompanied her to the Ministry, and neither of them spoke to her any more than was necessary. She saw neither Lucius nor Draco and nobody would tell her what arrangements had been made for them. At the Ministry she was put in a holding cell and told she would be called when required.

Eventually, the call came and she was escorted into the Wizengamot chamber, which she had only ever seen from the public galleries before. Three chairs, currently empty, faced the benches where the Chief Warlock sat. Around him the benches for other members of the Wizengamot, and the public seats, rose in tiers towards the ceiling. All were full to overflowing. Scanning them she saw Pansy and nodded in gratitude to her. A low hissing noise accompanied her entrance.

Once she was led to her chair her manacles were removed and she sat down. As she did so magical ropes bound her wrists and ankles.

The Chief Warlock, Kingsley Shacklebolt, called for silence and looked at Narcissa.

'Are you Narcissa Malfoy?'

'I am.'

'You are charged with Sheltering Criminals, Conspiracy to Murder Persons Unknown and Treason. Who speaks for you?'

'I speak for myself.'

'How do you plead?'

'Not Guilty.' More murmuring, and some catcalls rang around the chamber, but Shacklebolt stilled them with a look.

Further hissing announced another arrival. Craning her neck round she saw Draco being led, as docile as a lamb, towards her. She almost cried out in distress at his appearance. He looked so ill and she wasn't sure if he was being guided or carried to his seat. He, too, sat down and was bound. The worst thing of all was that he never looked at her once, didn't even seem to be aware of her existence. She heard him say, to one of the guards, 'Am I in London? Is this my trial?'

'Are you Draco Lucius Malfoy?'

'Is this my trial? Do I have to tell you about the bad things they made me do when I was a hostage?'

The murmurs were replaced by whispers, and Shacklebolt looked uncertain as to what to do next.

'Who speaks for this prisoner?'

'I do,' said Narcissa, 'as his mother.'

'Do you understand that Draco Lucius Malfoy faces one charge, of Conspiracy to Murder Harry James Potter?'

'I do. He enters a plea of Not Guilty.'

Booing greeted Lucius's arrival. He was carried to his seat, seemingly being incapable of walking. As Draco was between him and Narcissa she couldn't see what was going on, but no ropes appeared when he sat down and a rising torrent of voices ran around the chamber. Nothing like this had ever been seen before and Shacklebolt was forced to call for silence.

'Are you Lucius Malfoy?' Shacklebolt asked. There was no reply. 'Who speaks for the defendant?'

Narcissa was about to say something when another voice came from the rear of the chamber. 'I do.'

Shacklebolt looked surprised and he could be seen searching for the speaker. 'Step forward and identify yourself.'

A woman, in the green robes of a Healer, did so. 'I am Miriam Strout, a Healer working in Azkaban. As you can see, and the chairs know, Lucius Malfoy is not fit to stand trial. I request the Wizengamot that he be released to the care of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, where he can receive proper treatment for his condition.'

'Have St Mungo's been consulted?' Shacklebolt asked.

'Yes,' said another Healer, stepping forward, 'and we concur.'

'Very well,' Shacklebolt decided. 'I transfer the prisoner to your care. You will keep him secure and report on his condition to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on the anniversary of this date each year, or before he is discharged from your care. The charges against him shall remain on file. You may take the prisoner.'

Lucius was led away, to more chattering from the assembly, and Narcissa struggled against her bonds to see him. 'I want to see my husband. Let me see my husband!' she cried out.

'SILENCE!' Shacklebolt had magically amplified his voice to be heard over the disturbance. Once it had quietened he removed the _sonorus_ charm. 'This court is still in session and will proceed with the remaining defendants as planned.'

That led to more outbreaks of catcalls and low booing, but the atmosphere had changed. Narcissa heard several people call out "Shame" and "Let her see him".

'Bring in the witness,' Shacklebolt called over the noise. 'Harry James Potter.'

There were "Oohs" and "Aahs" as Potter entered the chamber, looking rather small and nervous. He glanced at the assembled crowd and attempted to flatten his hair, then tried to find something to do with his hands, which he eventually shoved in his pockets.

'Mr. Potter, are you familiar with Wizengemot proceedings?' asked Shacklebolt.

Potter cast a glance at the empty chair and shuddered. 'I've been here before.' That raised some wry smiles from the assembly.

'Mr. Potter, can you identify the two prisoners?'

'Draco Malfoy and his mother, Narcissa.'

'Is it true that in April of this year you were captured, along with others, and taken to Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire?'

'Yes.'

'At that address, did Draco Malfoy identify you to supporters of Tom Riddle?'

'No.' There were gasps from the entire room.

'Can you repeat and amplify your answer?'

'NO!'

'I meant,' said Shacklebolt, patiently, 'can you repeat and provide an explanation to your answer.'

'Sorry, I thought you couldn't hear me.' There was some tittering in the room. 'Malfoy – Draco Malfoy – was asked if I was me, but he said he wasn't certain.'

'You think he did not recognise you?'

'Hermione – Hermione Granger, that is – had used a stinging jinx to try and disguise me, but I think he knew who I was alright. He just seemed too scared to say anything.'

'Scared of whom?'

'Everyone. He didn't seem to have any influence. He was a bit pathetic, to be honest.'

'Moving on, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on the 1st of May this year, is it true that Draco Malfoy attempted to kill you?'

'Not really.' There were more gasps from the room. 'He wanted to capture me. It was Crabbe and Goyle who wanted me dead.'

'Why did he want you captured?'

'You might have to ask him that. I think he wanted to swap me for his parents. I think he was trying to keep them safe, get them away from Volde – Tom Riddle.'

'But were his parents not fighting alongside Tom Riddle?'

'That's not the impression I got. I think they were being held prisoner by him and they just wanted to know where Malfoy was. They certainly weren't fighting for him. That's why Narcissa lied to him.'

'Lied to him? To whom?'

'Riddle. When Riddle tried to kill me he asked her if I was dead, and she told him I was.'

'Why would she do that?'

Potter took a long time in answering, and there was absolute quiet in the court. 'She's Malfoy's mother, and she was worried about him. She asked me if Malfoy was still alive and wanted to know where he was. I suppose a mother will do anything to try to save her child, won't she?' Potter looked down and took a couple of deep breaths. 'My mum did.' He fished in his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, using it to wipe his eyes. 'Sorry.'

'There are no more question, Mr. Potter. You are free to go.'

Narcissa watched Potter as he walked past her. He looked in her direction and she inclined her head, just slightly. Could he really understand her motives that night? This was his chance to get revenge on a family that had despised and tormented him for years, and yet he had spoken the truth when he could have condemned them with lies. Could anybody be that honourable, or was there a game she could not see?

Shacklebolt went into a huddle with the other members of the Wizengamot, whilst the public galleries fizzed with gossip. Narcissa sat, awaiting her fate, and turned her head towards Draco. He seemed unaware of what was going on, never looking in her direction.

Eventually, Kingsley Shacklebolt stood and called for order. 'This court find the defendants Not Guilty of all charges against them. It finds that Narcissa Malfoy acted out of love for her only child and that child, even though he was of age, acted out of duress and fear for the safety of his parents. They are free to go.' Pandemonium broke out in the gallery as people shouted across to their friends, or rushed for the exits.

The magical bonds on the chairs released themselves and Narcissa stood, shakily. She gave Shacklebolt a small bow and turned to Draco.

'Come, Draco, we must leave.'

'What about my trial, in London? I have to tell the people about the bad things I was made to do when I was a hostage.'

'You don't need to do that any more. You can go home.'

'Home? I have to look after my father. He's ill.'

'Other people will do that, you can come home with me.'

'Will my mother be there?'

Narcissa steadied herself against his chair. 'Yes. She's waiting for you.'

-o0o-

Up in the gallery Rita Skeeter shut her notebook with a snap. 'Well, that was a waste of a morning.'

'But everyone knows the truth now,' Pansy insisted. 'You can tell them the Malfoys are innocent.'

'Grow up, girl. You think anyone's interested in that bunch of has-beens? People want excitement, scandal and gossip not the truth. I suppose I can do something about how noble "dear Harry" was in reaching out to his defeated foes. That has a bit of a ring to it.' She looked at her watch. 'The Leaky's open and I need a drink.'

Pansy fought her way through the crowds milling around until she found Narcissa, standing just inside the chamber and holding Draco's hand.

'Narcissa!' She threw herself into her arms.

Narcissa gave her a one-armed hug back. 'I can't believe it's over. I can't...just can't...'

'I know. But Lucius...?'

'I don't know. I must get Draco home and settled. I shall go to St Mungo's tomorrow.'

'Do you want me to come back with you?'

'Oh, Pansy, would you mind? You've been so good to me already.'

The crowd paid them little attention as they each took one of Draco's hands and led him towards the floo system. He followed, looking around him and seeming overwhelmed by the people and noise and not having the slightest clue as to what had just happened to him.


	16. Chapter 16

When they got back to Malfoy Manor Draco stood in the hallway, looking around as if seeing a place he thought he may have visited many years ago.

Narcissa took Pansy to one side. 'We won't take him in to the drawing-room; I don't want him to have his memory of that place return,' she whispered. Pansy looked at her questioningly. 'It was where most of the things I told you about happened. Draco had some very bad times in that room. We shall take him to one of the others.'

Narcissa led them to a small day room, which was light and open. Draco was sat down in a chair, where he continued to look about him in a bemused kind of way. 'I am home?' he asked, uncertainly.

'Yes, you are,' Narcissa replied. 'You are home and safe.'

'Then, where is Mother? Why is she not here to greet me?'

Narcissa and Pansy exchanged worried look. 'I'm going to try something,' Narcissa mouthed. 'Would you mind staying here with him?' Pansy shook her head and Narcissa left.

Draco looked at Pansy once they were on their own. 'I know you, don't I?'

'Do you? Who am I?'

Draco thought for a moment and then shook his head. 'I saw you yesterday, at school, I think. Were you in London? Was that my trial?'

'Yes, it was.'

Draco seemed concerned. 'They didn't make me tell them about the bad things I had to do when I was a hostage.'

Pansy shrugged. 'Maybe they thought it wasn't important any more. I wouldn't worry about it.'

They sat in silence, which Pansy found awkward. Here she was, with her former – virtually - fiancé, playing pretend games. She knew it was because he had been through a terrible experience, but it was still incredibly strange. Had he really withdrawn into an alternative version of reality to protect himself? She was convinced by now it wasn't some kind of act. The door opened and Narcissa came in. She had changed her dress.

'Draco, darling! You're home! I'm sorry Mummy wasn't here to greet you but I had to give the House Elf instructions for dinner.' Draco remained in his chair. 'Don't I get a hug?'

Draco stood and approached her warily. 'Are you Mother?'

'Of course I am! Now, give me a hug. How was school?'

Draco hugged her, reluctantly, but then held on tight. 'School was horrible. There were no lessons and I couldn't sleep in my own bed and I had to look after Father. I hated it.'

'I shall write to the Headmaster and complain. You don't have to go back if you don't want to.'

'I don't think I do want to. Where is Father? I have to take care of him. I know he's very sad about something but he never says anything.'

'Father isn't feeling very well,' Narcissa told him, 'so he's gone to St Mungos. He may have to stay for a while until he gets better.'

'Shall we go and see him?'

'One day.'

Dinky arrived shortly afterwards with lunch for them. Narcissa had warned her to say nothing to Draco. He eyed her suspiciously. 'I'm sure I've seen that thing before.'

'That's just the House Elf,' said Narcissa, soothingly. 'Eat your lunch, and there's treacle tart and custard for dessert. It's your favourite.'

Draco ate heartily, having two bowls of dessert. Narcissa had indicated to Pansy, with her eyes, that she shouldn't have any. 'This is much better than the food at school. Complain about that when you write as well, Mother.'

Shortly afterwards his head began to droop. 'Are you tired, Draco?' Narcissa asked and he nodded. 'It's been a long journey home. Why not have a lie down in your room?' Narcissa watched him walk away and turned to Pansy. 'That was a pretty strong potion I had Dinky put in the custard; he should be out for eighteen hours.'

She slumped into a sofa, looking absolutely exhausted. Pansy came to sit by her. 'You could probably do with a good sleep yourself, couldn't you?'

'I probably could. What a day!' Narcissa was in such a state she leant forward and started crying.

Pansy rubbed her back. 'Don't try to stop, this time. It will do you good to cry.'

'Oh, Pansy! What am I going to do? Where's the brandy?'

'That isn't going to help you.'

'Are you my mother?'

'If necessary,' Pansy replied, which made Narcissa laugh, despite her depression. 'You're going to have to be strong for Draco, and maybe Lucius. What do you think has happened to him?'

'I don't know. I'm scared, Pansy, I'm not sure if he'll ever recover. I don't know if I can face life without him around, especially if Draco...'

'I think all Draco needs is time. He's been through so much it's probably just his way of avoiding it. I'll stay tonight, shall I?'

Narcissa shook her head. 'No. You've done more for us than I could ever have asked for, and I'll never forget it. Go home, and see your young man.'

'Poor Mike,' Pansy said. 'I've not seen him since Sunday.' She paused. 'It's only Tuesday and I feel I've lived a lifetime.'

Narcissa took her hand. 'Haven't we all? I thought we'd all be in Azkaban by now. I can't believe I'm still here, any more than I can believe what Potter did. Why did he do it?'

Pansy shrugged. 'He's not as daft as he looks, not by a long chalk. I sat next to that Skeeter woman today, she said she'd have to write an article about how wonderful he was in "reaching out to his defeated foes". It wouldn't surprise if he did the whole thing deliberately just to make himself look like some great, noble hero. Nobody ever saw what he did to Draco with that horrible curse, did they?'

Narcissa patted her hand. 'He's untouchable; always has been. Go and see your boyfriend.'

'I'll come back tomorrow to look after Draco whilst you go to the hospital, if you're sure you'll be alright by yourself tonight?'

'Thank you, Pansy. You're a good girl. I promise I won't have more than a nightcap.'

-o0o-

When Pansy got home she told her parents all about the trial and the state Draco was in. They exchanged glances.

'So what happens next?' her mother asked. 'Where do you stand with Draco? Did he say anything?'

Pansy shook her head in irritation. 'Did you not listen to me? Draco doesn't even know who I am any more. If...if he recovers, then who knows what might happen. I don't think his memory will ever go back to what it was before, although he may improve. Narcissa thinks that Lucius is permanently affected.'

'Sad that it should happen to a good man,' said her father. 'Just take your time, that's all. What are your immediate plans?'

'I'm going to see Mike,' Pansy said, decisively, 'and you can take that look of your faces. I think I deserve to enjoy myself after the last couple of days and it's about time I thought about me for a change.' She fished in her bag, bringing out Mike's phone number. 'Do either of you know what this is,' she said, showing them the piece of paper. 'He said it was his "phone number", but I don't know what to do with it.'

Her father looked at it. 'It's like a muggle floo call,' he said. He looked at his daughter and gave a resigned shrug. 'I'll take you to the phone box.'

Pansy found making her first phone call quite exciting. She had to put some money in a slot and then press some buttons. She was bit confused by the noises she heard but then Mike was talking to her! He was actually talking to her and it was a lot more comfortable than a floo call. She arranged to meet him, at their usual place by the clock, later that evening. She wanted it to be as soon as possible, but knew she needed to have a bath and get dressed up first. The time couldn't pass quickly enough, though.

He was stood there waiting for her when she got off the bus and she held her arms out to him. 'I need a hug.' He was only too willing to help her out.

'Hard day?'

'Hard couple of days. Hard life.'

'Do you want to talk about it?' he asked her, gently.

She clung to him. 'Not yet. I'd have to tell you a lot of other things first and I don't have the energy tonight.'

'That's fine; I said I'd leave it to you and I meant it. What do you want to do, then?'

'I want you to talk.'

'What about?'

'Everything. Tell me everything I need to know about your world.'

'"My world"? Wow, that's a biggie!' He thought for a moment. 'What do you know about pizza?'

'Not much. It's some kind of bread, isn't it?'

'OK, we'll start with that.' He took her hand and began to lead her along the street. 'Come on, my little enigma variation.'

'Your what?'

He laughed and squeezed her hand. 'Remind me to introduce you to Elgar one day.'

'Is he a friend of yours?'

'Sort of!'

They went into the pizza restaurant and found a table. Mike explained about the various sizes and toppings on offer. Pansy wasn't sure what she would like, so ordered one that seemed to have a little bit of everything on it. She surprised him by ordering the wine, though, mainly because she headed straight for the quality one he wouldn't have even dreamt of getting - due to the price. Whatever background she had obviously didn't include abstaining from top-of-the-range drink.

'So, what do you want me to tell you about, then?'

'Everything.' Pansy realised that might be a slightly tall order, so searched her memory for somewhere to start. 'What's a helicopter?' She saw the bemused look on his face. 'They were in the pictures we saw the other day, you said so. What are they?'

'OK.' Mike told her about helicopters, which led on to aeroplanes and how an engine works.

Then she came up with something else that had been bothering her about the film. 'Where did they get Godzilla from? I've never heard of an animal like that.'

'He wasn't real,' Mike laughed. 'That was CGI; a computer generated image.' He looked at her, trying to keep a straight face. 'Fine! Which one of those words meant the least to you?'

Pansy thought about it for a moment. 'Computer.' She nodded her head. 'Definitely computer.'

Mike reached for the wine bottle. 'I might need this.'

He wasn't particularly technically minded, which helped because he had to explain things fairly simply. Even so, Pansy only understood a fraction of what he said but that didn't matter. She was learning how this strange new world worked. It was a start.

The time slipped away all too quickly and soon they had to go back to the station so that she could catch her bus home. She held his hand at the bus stop and he felt her shaking.

'You aren't cold, are you?'

'No. Scared.'

'Scared of what?'

'It's my turn next, isn't it?' She took a deep breath. 'You've told me about your world, so now I'll have to tell you about mine.'

'Only if you want to.'

'Yes. Yes, I do.' She wanted to tell him there and then. She wanted to tell Mike, who was so kind and understanding, everything about herself but, at the same time, she didn't want to reveal her secret. What if it made him did turn away from her? She didn't think she could bear that, not from Mike, not now. He used his free hand to tilt her head back slightly and leant in towards her. Pansy realised he was going to kiss her and instinctively stepped back.

'Sorry,' he said, immediately letting go. 'That was a bit crass of me.'

'No, it's not you, it's me. I can't let you get too close, not until you know about me. I want to, because I like you, but it's just that I've never met anyone like you before. Never. You may not believe it, but I haven't; not to talk to and be with. Can I see you tomorrow?' she asked.

'I'm a bit tied up tomorrow; I don't think I can get out of it. Thursday? I'll meet you here at six and we'll go for something to eat. Then, only if you want, you can tell me about yourself.'

'Thank you. Not in a restaurant, though. Is there somewhere quiet we could go?'

Mike had to think carefully about his reply. 'We could go to my flat, if you wanted; it isn't far from here.'

Pansy wondered what her parents would say about that – if they ever found out. 'Yes, alright,' she said, hesitantly

Mike misunderstood her doubts. 'I'm not trying it on, honest. I won't try to show you my etchings, or anything! We can find somewhere else if you want.'

She smiled. 'I trust you.'

The bus pulled up at the stop and she gave him a hug. 'Until Thursday, then.'

As the bus carried her home Pansy convinced herself she was doing the right thing. She wasn't sure, just yet, if she was in love with Mike but she knew it probably wouldn't be long, if he accepted her for what she was, but he couldn't do that until he knew about her so she had to take the risk and tell him. It was up to her to make the move and she would do that on Thursday.

* * *

_AN: Just in case you're wondering "Elgar" is __Sir Edward Elgar (1857-1934)_,_an English composer probably best know for his "Enigma Variations". If you've never listened to Variation IX (Nimrod), then go to YouTube and do yourselves a favour!_


	17. Chapter 17

Narcissa made her reluctant way to the fourth floor of St. Mungo's. It was a place her entire world feared and spoke of only in whispers. Spell damage, brain damage. Most frightening of all was the Janus Thickey Ward - the closed ward - the ward you never left once you were admitted, and that was where Narcissa was heading. She paused before knocking on the door. Behind it was her husband and today she would learn his fate.

Security on the ward had been strengthened, ever since the unfortunate incident with Broderick Bode a few years back, and Narcissa had to pass through double doors. She was searched at each one. A Healer was called to take her to her husband's room, where he was being kept on his own whilst being assessed.

''How is he?' she asked the Healer, before they finally entered the ward. 'How...affected is he?'

'Where there is life there is hope, Mrs Malfoy,' the Healer replied, in the tone of somebody who had spent many years dressing up bad news. 'Techniques and treatments have improved greatly and we can do wonderful things these days; wonderful things we couldn't have even attempted in the past.'

'So he can be cured?' It was a direct question and it made the Healer nervous.

'We prefer not to talk in such black and white terms, Mrs Malfoy. What, indeed, is a "cure"? Can we say "this person is cured and this person is not"? No, we have to look at how a patient responds to treatment, how they can be encouraged to use the abilities and faculties they have remaining in order to...'

'So he'll never get better? Is that what you're telling me?'

'Where there is life there is hope, Mrs Malfoy.'

The ward was very calm, unnaturally so, as they walked through it. The walls were painted a light green and soft, almost hypnotic, music played. Most patients were in their beds, lying still and unresponsive.

As they passed one the occupant suddenly sat up. 'Hello! More visitors! No rest for the wicked and I suppose you want an autograph? Oh, very well! I cannot deny my public!'

'Not today, Gilderoy,' the Healer called back gently and Lockhart sunk onto his bed, a look of hurt disappointment on his face.

'Is he improving?' Narcissa asked.

'Patient confidentially, I'm afraid, although it is very hard to judge with that one. He had a rather different definition of normal to most people, even before he came here.'

They continued along the ward. A woman, wizened and with white, lank hair approached. She tried to hand something to the Healer, who took it and patted her on the shoulder. 'Thank you, Alice. Now, back to bed.'

The woman shuffled away and Narcissa froze. 'I know her.'

The Healer looked at her, an unreadable expression on his face. 'Alice Longbottom. Yes.' He pointed to another bed, where a man lay staring at the ceiling without seeing it. 'Her husband, Frank.'

'My sister.'

'I am aware, but she was your sister, not you. Shall we continue?'

They approached a door at the end of the room, the Healer looking through a glass viewing window before entering.

'Lucius, you have a visitor; your wife has come to see you. That's nice, isn't it?' There was no indication that Lucius had heard anything, or that he was aware they were in the room. The Healer turned to Narcissa. 'Speak to him; it doesn't matter so much what you say. Your voice is the important thing.'

'Am I allowed to touch him?'

'Of course. Hold his hand, stroke his face. Contact with a loved one can be very useful. I shall leave you alone with him, but there will be somebody just outside the door if required.'

Narcissa sat in the chair next to the bed and held her husband's hand. He lay still, with his eyes closed. There was no movement except for the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, absolutely nothing. Even his eyes, under the lids, didn't flicker. She made sure the Healer had left the room before leaning forward, putting her mouth next to Lucius's ear. 'He's left; we're on our own.'

Nothing.

'Lucius it's me, Narcissa. There's nobody here. You can stop pretending now; you've managed to fool all of them.'

Nothing.

'Lucius!' Nothing. Narcissa shook his shoulders. 'Lucius! LUCIUS! Talk to me! TALK TO ME!' She began to slap and shake him. 'Lucius! Lucius! Don't do this to me.' The door burst open and two Healers rushed in, grabbing her arms. 'Lucius, please! Don't leave me! I need you!'

-o0o-

'So, Draco, what do you want to do today?' Pansy was sat with Draco in the day room, where they had been since Narcissa had left for London.

'What can we do?'

Pansy shrugged. She still found it very awkward to talk him as a stranger. She had known him since they were children and she had always been slightly in awe of him, with his money and big house. Now she felt like she was his...she didn't know; aunt, teacher...babysitter? 'We could read, or play chess. You like chess, don't you?

'How do you know that?'

How did she know that? 'Your mother told me.'

'I don't want to play chess.' He stood up. 'They put me in a tiny dormitory at school and all I could do was sit down. I want to do something.'

'We could walk in the gardens.'

'Walking's boring.' His face brightened. 'I could fly.'

'If you want, as long as you don't go too high and you keep me in sight.'

'Are you going to fly with me?'

Pansy shook her head. 'I can't fly very well. I'm sure you're much better than me and you'd soon leave me behind.'

They went out into the garden, Draco heading straight for a shed close to the house. 'This is where I keep my broom!' He opened the door and disappeared inside. However he soon came out, looking confused. 'I can't find my broom. I wanted to show it to you. It's a good one, a Nimbus 2001. Where can it be?'

'Is it still at school?'

'I don't know. It might be, because I didn't take it to London with me. Why did I have to go to London?'

Pansy wasn't sure how to explain that. 'People wanted to know if you'd been...naughty.'

'Why didn't they just ask me at school? Why did I have to go to London?'

'Lots of people wanted to ask you, so it was easier for you to go to them, I suppose.'

'Oh, I see. I'll have to use another broom, won't I, until we get mine back? Mother can ask about it when she writes to complain.'

He ran back to the shed and come out with a broom, of sorts. 'Be careful,' Pansy shouted.

Draco flew slowly around the garden, staying close to the ground. Eventually he started to go just a little faster and higher. Every time he pushed the boundaries he looked over to Pansy, to see if she disapproved or not, and she found herself smiling indulgently at his antics. He'd regressed back to his childhood, that was obvious even to her. She suspected it was to a time before he'd being given the task of killing Dumbledore, perhaps even before the Inquisitorial Squad. That would make him no more than fourteen or fifteen, before he lost his innocence.

After an hour he landed, with a bit more colour in his cheeks, but looking very tired. He almost fell into the chair and guzzled a large glass of pumpkin juice.

'Did you enjoy that?' Pansy asked.

'Yes!' Draco nodded, enthusiastically. 'It's a long time since I've flown, even though you wouldn't let me go fast. I am a seeker, you know.'

'But out of practise,' Pansy cautioned. 'Are you tired?'

'Slightly. Takes it out of you, a bit.'

'Why not have a lie down?'

'I'm not a child...what is your name?'

Pansy couldn't think quickly enough to make it convincing. 'Pansy,' she said, and held her breath.

'I know somebody called Pansy.' Draco looked at her as he reached for more juice. 'She's younger than you.' He drained his glass. 'I think I might have a rest, just for a while.'

'Do you want me to see you upstairs?'

Draco let out an enormously affected sigh. 'I said I'm not a child, Pansy. I can go to bed on my own, and I'm certainly not having you in the room whilst I put my pyjamas on!'

Once he was out of the way Pansy went to the wand room. She wanted to select her first batch of products for the shop. She used her hand to guide her, picked only those wands she got little or no reaction from and ended up with around thirty or so. That would give her a bit of stock for the future, if they did prove popular. She felt quite the business woman as she left the room.

That was all she would be in this house, she thought, as she sealed the door behind her. Her relationship with Draco had certainly changed and she could see very little chance of it going back to the way it was. It wasn't funny, at all, but she hoped he wouldn't get a crush on her one day.

-o0o-

Narcissa sat with the Healer, clasping a cup of tea. She was still shaking from a combination of shock at her husband's condition, and embarrassment at letting her emotions show so obviously.

'I'm so sorry,' was all she could say. 'I just can't believe he's like this. It isn't possible.'

'People can react very strongly when something like this happens, for all sorts of reasons,' replied the Healer. 'It will take you some time to adjust and you will go through various stages before you can accept it. You're in the first one already.'

'Am I?'

'Denial. You don't think it is possible. You may almost find yourself becoming angry, at either yourself, your husband, or other people. You are, in many ways, going through a bereavement.'

'Is there nothing I can do?'

'Be there for him. As hard as it may be, visit him and talk to him. You have a son, as well, I believe?'

'Yes. Should I bring him? He's having issues at the moment.'

'To do with the war?'

'I think so. He's turned into a child again.'

The Healer considered Narcissa's statement. 'He's possibly looking for a safe place, where he can escape the horrors he has been though by pretending they never happened. Yes, bring him along to see his father, and I will speak to him as well.'

Narcissa was uncertain. 'Is he going to end up in here, too?'

'We are here to help people, as best as we can, Mrs Malfoy. Please do not see us as a prison, or the patients here as failures, in any way.'

'Why haven't I reacted? That's what I don't understand. I know I wasn't locked up, but I've not been affected.'

The Healer looked at her. 'Haven't you? I doubt any of us are the person we were a year ago; I know I'm not.'

-o0o-

Pansy arrived home in time for dinner, which pleased her parents; they saw so little of her these days. They'd seen little of her since she was eleven, of course, but that was different. It was hard to accept that she wasn't the child they'd waved off at King's Cross all those years ago. Now she was a woman, and her interests lay elsewhere. They had to make the most of her whilst they could.

The conversation over dinner mainly revolved around Lucius and Draco. Both her parents spoke in platitudes about how marvellous the Healers were, and how treatments had improved over the years, but the unspoken belief was there that nothing could be done. Once you were on the closed ward there was only one way you were going to leave, and that was in a box. The magical world had potions and lotions to treat most things, but the mind was a completely different matter. Beyond simple cheering charms there was very little magic could do. It was a sad reality and they all fell silent for a while.

Pansy started a new conversation, and told them about her plans for the wands. Neither of her parents could quite believe that muggles had any concept of their world.

'I don't think they do,' Pansy told them. 'It was like they could remember magic, but had no idea how it was done so they've made up a story. You should see what they think a dragon looks like! It was hilarious!'

'Even so, Petal,' her father cautioned, 'is it wise to sell them wands? What if a squib, who doesn't even know he's a squib, gets hold of one?'

'I thought of that,' she said. 'If I can get the cores out of the wands it would stop them working. I don't suppose either of you know how?'

Both parents laughed. 'Do we look like experts in wandlore?' her mother asked.

'Alright, then,' Pansy continued. 'My next plan is to test the wands before I sell them on. We'll all try to use them and only the ones that don't do anything – or much – will go out for now. How does that sound? If we can't get anything from them a squib would stand no chance.'

Her father gave her an exasperated smile. 'Selling wands to muggles! What are you going to come up with next?'

Pansy took a long time coming to a decision. 'Telling them about me. Well, one of them anyway. I'm seeing Mike tomorrow night.'


	18. Chapter 18

There was a stained silence around the table, broken eventually by Pansy's mother. 'Do you think that's wise, dear?'

Pansy took her hand. 'I'm not sure. I've got to say something, though. He knows I'm different to him and he can't work out why. He's so understanding about it; he said he wouldn't rush me, and he'd wait for me to tell him when I was ready. I wanted to, the other night after the trial, I wanted to talk about it but I couldn't.'

'You could have spoken to us,' her father said, feeling slightly surplus to requirements now his daughter was growing up.

Pansy held his hand, as well. 'It isn't the same, Dad. I need somebody...my age, I suppose. Somebody who understands what I'm going through.'

'That won't be him, then. I doubt he's experienced half of what you have.'

Pansy nodded. 'I know that, but he's at a turning point in his life just like I am.'

'But what are you going to tell him?' her mother asked. 'Are you just going to come out with it?'

'I haven't got that far yet,' Pansy admitted. 'It sounds a pretty good plan though. "By the way, that thing you can't guess about me? Well, I'm a witch and I can do magic". That should break the ice. Oh, Merlin!' She gave a nervous laugh. 'I said that, once, and he picked up on it.'

Her father wasn't smiling. 'What if he doesn't believe you? What then?'

Pansy put on a mock severe face. 'Then I'll _levicorpus_ his arse to the ceiling until he does!' Her mother said 'Language!' and Pansy laughed again. 'I don't know what I'm going to say to him, to be honest. I'll just make it up as I go along.'

'What if...if it scares him off?' asked her father. 'Like I said, muggles fear what they don't understand.'

Pansy's light mood evaporated and she had to take a few deep breaths. 'You also told me that lying isn't any basis for a relationship, remember? He's intelligent, and kind. I've got to take the risk.' She wiped her eyes. 'I have to be honest with him.'

'Maybe leave it a while?' her father asked. 'If he's that understanding, he'll wait.

'Oh, Cecil!' his wife exclaimed. 'You still don't understand women, do you?'

'No,' he replied, honestly. 'Never have, never will.'

She gave an exasperated shake of her head. 'Pansy's falling in love. She probably not quite there yet, and she realises she can't until she's told him the truth about herself and he accepts for what she is.'

Pansy wondered when her mother had turned into such a skilled _legilimens_; that was exactly how she felt.

Her father let that one go. Romance had never figured very highly in his life; he was more interested in practical matters. 'So let's, for argument's sake, say he does accept it all, hopefully with his arse still at ground level.' Mrs Parkinson tutted. 'What then?'

Pansy shrugged. 'Then we'll have to see what happens next. I suppose I should introduce him to you, shouldn't I?'

Mr and Mrs Parkinson looked at each other. 'A muggle? Here? In this house?' her father said.

'Dad?'

'I didn't mean it quite like that. It's just that...well, he's different to us. What does he do, anyway?'

Pansy wasn't so sure. 'He said he's a student at the Uni, studying English.'

'Is he a foreigner, as well?' her mother asked, slightly shocked.

'No.'

'So why does he need to study English, then, if he's been speaking it all his life? Is there something wrong with him?'

'No, Mum! He looks at how books are written and poems...and things.'

'Oh, that'll come in useful,' said her father, with a sigh. 'There must be plenty of jobs doing that.'

'Please, Dad! If I do bring him here you will make him welcome, won't you? It will be just as strange for him as it is for me going into his world.'

'Can we use our wands when he's around?' her mother wondered. 'I'm not turning into a muggle just to satisfy him.'

'Just be yourselves,' said Pansy, wondering if that was a good idea or not, 'and don't show him any pictures of me as a baby.'

-o0o-

Thursday was quite a stressful day for Pansy. She had to decide what to wear, whilst trying to stop herself thinking about the evening. The temptation was to rehearse a speech, but she knew it probably wasn't going to be like that. She doubted Mike would be able to sit quietly whilst she explained her life to him.

She tried to occupy herself by sorting out the wands she'd brought back from Malfoy Manor the previous day, laying them out on her dressing table and checking for any damage to them. She even attempted to remove the cores, but nothing seemed to work. She hadn't expected a simple _accio_ to remove them, to be honest. If it did people would use it whilst duelling. She wondered if she could trim the tip of the wand, to expose the core, and then pull it out. Maybe she'd try that another day.

In the end she gave up and went downstairs and sat with her mother, who made them both a cup of tea. It was cosy and relaxing, just the two of them at the kitchen table.

Pansy had always had a slightly distant relationship with her mother, who tended to be quiet and unprepossessing. Her husband made most of the decisions, something his wife found hard to; she would tend to procrastinate. She was quite happy being a home-maker. Now, though, it was comforting for Pansy to sit with somebody who knew what it was like to be a girl who may, or may not, be about to have a relationship with a boy.

'Is he handsome?' her mother asked, conspiratorially.

Pansy shrugged, a little embarrassed. 'He's not bad looking, but he's really nice; that's the main thing. He laughs and smiles a lot.'

'But what if it doesn't go well this evening?'

'I don't know, Mum. If he doesn't believe me I can show him some magic, I suppose, but if he reacts badly, then...I don't know. What about the Statute of Secrecy? Can I get into trouble?'

'I don't know either. I remember a girl I was at school with went out with a muggle and it caused a few problems. I think the obliviators had to get involved in the end. He started telling people about her and his family thought he'd gone a bit funny in the head. I don't think she got into trouble, though.'

'Am I doing the right thing?'

'Well, now, if only we knew the answer to that question the world would be a much simpler place, wouldn't it?'

'I suppose so.'

Her mother took her hand. 'Do you think he'll make you happy?'

Pansy nodded. 'I think so.'

'You can't ask for more than that, and don't worry about Dad and I, if you bring this boy home. We'll behave.'

'Thanks, Mum.' Pansy stood. 'I need to get ready; I'm meeting him at six.' She paused at the kitchen door. 'Mum, are you...? Nothing.'

She went upstairs to finish getting ready, realising she was running slightly late. The make up was applied in a little more of a hurry than she ideally wanted, but it would have to do . She grabbed her bag and wand. Well, she grabbed a wand.

-o0o-

Mike said he would take Pansy for an Indian meal, another food she had never experienced. He was quite stunned, when she told him, and thought he could start asking a few more questions of her now. He hoped it would ease her into the conversation they would have later

'You've never had a curry? What do you eat?'

'The usual things,' Pansy informed him. 'Pies, stews, roasts.'

Mike decided to fish for clues. 'You don't have any dietary laws, then?' Pansy shook her head, not quite sure what he meant.

She decided, eventually, that a curry was a type of spicy stew with a rich gravy and served with rice. It was very nice, and she enjoyed the lagers they drank with it as well. Far too soon, though, the plates were empty and they sat at the table in an awkward silence, which Pansy realised she would have to break.

'I suppose we should go, shouldn't we?'

Mike nodded. 'Yep. What do you want to do? We could go to the pub, if you want.'

'Shall we get it over and done with, and go to your flat?'

'If you're ready. I'll be interested in seeing how close my theory is.'

Pansy looked at him in surprise. 'What theory?'

He looked back at her, a smile playing about his eyes. 'You were brought up in some weird religious cult that's turned its back on the modern world.'

'Interesting.'

'So I'm not right then? I did sound a bit unlikely,' he chuckled.

Pansy didn't laugh. 'Unlikely? Just you wait.'

They left the restaurant and walked along the High Street, hand in hand. Eventually Mike led her down a side street and through an alleyway. They came out into a kind of run down industrial area.

'My flat's on the other side of this,' Mike told her. 'Not the nicest part of town, but it does. It's only another year until I graduate.'

Being evening, the businesses were closed and the area was deserted. The rounded a corner to find a group of three men lounging against a wall and swigging beer from cans.

'Uh oh,' said Mike. 'Back track.' It was too late, they'd been seen. The men pushed themselves away from the wall.

'Fancy a drink, darlin'' said one of the men, holding out a beer can and grinning. He'd obviously had a few already.

'No, thank you,' said Pansy. She and Mike began retracing their steps, but the men followed.

'Ignore them up and speed up,' said Mike, who sounded worried.

The men speeded up with them and started making comments, which were getting louder and cruder. Pansy's anger began to rise. She was not used to being spoken to in such a way, particularly by boors like this.

'Keep moving,' said Mike, taking her hand. 'Faster.' The men heard.

'Yeah, faster, darlin', bet you got a lovely wiggle on yer bum when you run. Gi's a closer look!' one of the men called out, and his friends started laughing and making vulgar comments as well.

Pansy eventually snapped and turned to face them. Mike tried to take her arm but she pushed him away.

'Don't you dare speak to me like that, you filthy mudblood.'

The men came to a halt, grinning. 'You got a big mouth for a little girl, darlin',' one of them said. 'You reckon mummy's boy here's gonna step in to help ya?'

'Go whilst you still can,' said Pansy, slipping her hand into her bag and taking hold of her wand.

The man moved towards her, a leer on his face. 'I think you need teaching a lesson, Princess.' He turned to his friends. 'You take care of nancy boy and I'll deal with her. You can have a go afterwards, if you want.' He turned back to Pansy, his grin getting wider. 'Come here, darlin'. I'm gonna enjoy this.'

He moved towards Pansy and she could smell the stale beer on his breath. She pulled the wand from her bag. _'Crucio!_'

He was thrown backwards through the air, screaming, before smashing into a wall and slumping to the ground. His friends stood, staring, their mouths hanging open, uncertain of what they had seen. They were still gawping as the stunning spells hit them and they, too, fell to the floor.

Mike froze, staring as they men had done, his face draining of colour as he went into shock. 'Wha...'

'We need to get out of here,' Pansy said, as the realisation of what she had just done sunk in. She'd used an Unforgivable, on muggles in front of a muggle.

Mike continued to stare, blankly. 'Come on, Mike,' she said, taking his hand and trying to pull him away but she couldn't shift him. She spun around as she heard some quiet "popping" noises nearby. 'Move, please!'

She heard footsteps, running and getting louder. Her Unforgivable spell must have broken some kind of taboo and Aurors had apparated to investigate. Images flashed through her mind. The Wizengemot – Trial – Azkaban.

'Mike! Move!'

He stood rooted to the spot. She had just seconds left. In a blind panic she pointed her wand at him and said the first thing that came to mind. _'Obliviate!'_ Then she obliviated the other three before disappearing from sight, just as the aurors skidded around the corner.

-o0o-

Dennis Fawcett halted his team of aurors whilst he assessed the scene before him. Three on the ground, one standing; no obvious threats. He motioned the team to come forward with him, indicating the individual they would cover with their wands, just in case there was an ambush. He concentrated on the one left standing.

'What's your name, son?'

'M...M...M...'

'Alright, we'll try an easier one to start with. What happened?'

'N...N...N...'

He called Auror Podmore forward. She was the most able legilimens he had with him, relatively speaking. 'Have a shufti and see what gen you can find,' he said to her.

Podmore didn't take long to make her report. 'He's a muggle called Michael Reilly. Lots of stuff about books and music, but nothing useful. Someone's made a pretty good job of obliviating him, Sir.'

'Try the other three.'

Podmore soon stepped back, shaking her head in pain, when she got to the one laying against the wall. 'Ouch! He's the one who got the _crucio _alright. They've all been obliviated too, but it doesn't help they're drunk. I can't get anything from any of them.'

'Do they need medical help?'

'Lots of bruises, a couple of cracked ribs. This one,' she indicated the one by the wall, 'will feel like he's been trampled by a herd of hippogriffs when he wakes up, and there's some torn ligaments, but that's about it.'

Fawcett nodded. Not much they could do here, and they were dealing with muggles who'd already had their minds cleared out. That suited him down to the ground. A quick tidy up and they could get back to base to start the real work. He approached Mike, applying a memory modification charm as he did so.

'Listen to me, son. You were going home and found these three fighting each other. It was none of your business so you walked away from it. Do you understand?'

'Walked away,' Mike repeated.

'That's right, you walked away. Get home, get a good night's sleep and forget all about it. Off you go.'

'Good night's sleep. Forget about it.'

Mike walked down the road, slightly unsteadily, and was soon lost to sight. Fawcett called his team together.

'I reckon the three on the ground tried to attack the youngster and somebody who happened to be passing decided to help him out. We'll clear off and, when we get back, start searching for magicals living in the area. If there's a bloody vigilante with a hero complex around here I want it nipped in the bud. Let's go.'

The aurors apparated away, leaving three men behind who felt worse in the morning than they normally did, and couldn't remember why.


End file.
